


As Long As We're Together

by PaperandInk



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Bullying, F/M, Gambling Addiction, M/M, Panic Attacks, Shermie takes care of Stan and Ford, Young Ford Pines, Young Stan Pines, past emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2019-08-25 22:29:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 87,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16669552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperandInk/pseuds/PaperandInk
Summary: After an incident with bullies at school, Stan and Ford are sent to live with their older brother, Shermie and his wife at their bed and breakfast in a small town in Oregon called Gravity Falls. Stan is sure that he'll hate it there but good food and fast friends change his mind. Meanwhile, Ford is still haunted by what happened at their old school, and has a harder time finding a way to move forward.





	1. Broken Glasses

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is my first Gravity Falls fic. I had this idea for an AU and it kept bugging me until I wrote it. So, here it is I hope that you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Shermie got to the bus stop early to wait for his brothers’ arrival. He hadn’t seen them in what felt like forever but in reality, had only been about six months. Apparently, that had been enough time for everything to go to shit. Stan had gotten expelled from school for fighting and without Stan’s protection Ford had gotten beaten to a pulp by bullies. Shermie then got a phone call from their mother begging him to take in his brothers.

_“Shermie, we don’t know what else to do. Please, I need to know that my babies will be safe,” Caryn Pines sobbed into the phone._

_With his heart in his throat, Shermie managed to weakly nod. When he realized that she couldn’t see this, he said, “Of course, Ma. I’ll start making arrangements.”_

While he wasn’t prepared to suddenly be raising a pair of twelve-year-olds, he couldn’t just let his siblings suffer on the other side of the country when he could do something about it. So, he and his wife did what they could to make preparations for them. It had been quite the ordeal trying to convince the school that with Stan’s record and expulsion he wouldn’t be a problem attending Gravity Falls Middle School. Then there was making room for the twins at the bed and breakfast. When building it, they hadn’t planned for two adolescent boys to be living with them in their personal suite. They cleared out what was supposed to be Shermie’s personal office and somehow managed to wedge a bunk bed in.

Now, after a whirlwind week of preparing for his brothers he was anxiously waiting to greet them. He sat on the bench, glancing at his watch every two minutes as he waited. A cool spring breeze ruffled his hair, carrying the scent of freshly blooming flowers. Normally, the idyllic weather would be something he enjoyed, but his anxieties over his younger brothers prevented him from being able to appreciate it. It was torture as he wondered what exactly had gone down in New Jersey. How badly had Ford been hurt by those bullies. What kind of damage had Stan done that he got expelled from school? Whatever it was, it had been bad enough to have his mom calling him begging him to let his brothers come live with him and his wife indefinitely.

It was half an hour later that the bus pulled up. Shermie leapt to his feet and watched three other passengers disembark from the bus before his brothers appeared. Stan leapt down then turned back to offer a hand to Ford. Shermie felt like someone had dropped a boulder in his stomach when he saw Ford. The younger boy had his right arm in a sling and the left side of his face was covered in greenish-yellow bruising. When Shermie saw that his glasses were bent and taped together, he remembered that his mom had told him that they were going to have the new ones shipped to Gravity Falls. He prayed that they would be there soon. He didn’t want Ford to have to walk around wearing taped together glasses any longer than needed.

“Hey, guys,” Shermie greeted, voice thick with emotion.

The twins looked up at him. Stan grunted in response while Ford said nothing and looked away. Shermie would be lying if he said that didn’t hurt. He remembered the days when they’d fight over who got to tell him about a cool adventure they’d had. It’d only been six months ago. Hell, it had only been one month ago that they were fighting over the phone to get to talk to him.

Shermie cleared his throat and continued. “Let’s get your bags and we can head to my place.”

 

* * *

 

Shermie hoped that the car ride would give the twins a chance to warm up to him again. But neither of them seemed to want to speak to him or even to each other. The awkwardness made Shermie talk to fill the silence. He found himself babbling on about the nature and wildlife surrounding them. He mentally told himself to shut up but he couldn’t seem to stop talking. It was like his nervous energy needed to be expended and unfortunately that was the way he got it out. He gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles begging his mouth to stop moving.

He wanted to weep with relief when they finally made it to the bed and breakfast. “This is the place,” he announced once they were parked and he had turned off the car. “Pines Bed and Breakfast.”

Stan grunted in response, looking unimpressed with his arms crossed over his chest. It was eerie how much he was reminding Shermie of their father. Ford seemed like he was off in his own world, staring down at his lap.

Shermie got out of the car and watched as they did the same. Stan rushed to Ford’s side to help him. He treated his older twin like without constant supervision he might shatter and blow away in the wind. Even after helping him out of the car, Stan kept hold of Ford’s hand.

When they got inside, Shermie started showing them around the downstairs. “This is our check-in desk,” he said as he gestured to the desk that greeted them just as they stepped inside. He pointed to the stairs to their right. “Upstairs there are four guest suites. In here is,” he walked them through to a sitting room that had a couch and two armchairs that were white with a red floral pattern. Shermie didn’t really like them but he had liked the bargain price they got them for. “The gathering room. Over here is the dining room.” He showed them a larger room with a long dining table and a fire place. “And through here is the kitchen.” The kitchen wasn’t state of the art by any means and he hadn’t really wanted a green refrigerator but it was affordable and got the job done.

Throughout the tour Stan kept a hold on Ford’s hand. They hadn’t held hands like that since they were five. Ford leaned over and said something in a low voice to Stan. Stan looked up at Shermie and his eyes narrowed when he noticed their older brother watching them. It was jarring to see the brother who used to adore him look at him like he was the enemy.

“We don’t like the idea of having to share the place with a bunch of strangers,” Stan explained.

“Oh, well, our family has a private living space. The owner’s suite is over here.” Shermie led them out of the kitchen, down a back hallway to a locked door. “You will each get your own key of course,” he said with a nervous laugh. Why was he laughing? Why couldn’t he just act like a sane person? These were just his brothers. He’s known them their whole lives. He unlocked the door to reveal a tiny living room and kitchen combination. Another hallway led off of it to a couple of bedrooms and a bathroom. “This is where we live.”

 

* * *

 

Stan angrily pulled clothes out of his suitcase and shoved them into the dresser that he and Ford would be sharing. He got the bottom two drawers while Ford got the top two and they shared the middle one. He’d only been in Gravity Falls for an hour and he already hated it. “This is so stupid. Stupid small town. Stupid small bedroom,” he grumbled. “I can’t believe Ma and Pa are making us live here.”

He turned back to his suitcase to see Ford beside him trying to unpack his own suitcase one-handed. All of the fire from his anger went out of him. “Hey, Sixer, it’s okay. I’ll unpack for you.”

“No, I’ve got it,” Ford insisted. He tried to pull out a stack of jeans and shorts only to fumble and drop them all. “Dammit!”

Stan winced at hearing Ford swear. If this had been before everything happened, he probably would have laughed and teased his twin mercilessly for letting it slip. Ford was normally the one berating him for using swear words. But he couldn’t tease his brother for this. It wasn’t a case of letting a swear word slip, this was a case of the cracks from stress showing all too clearly.

“Here,” Stan stooped to collect the dropped clothing and did his best to fold them like their mom had. Then he placed it as neatly as possible in Ford’s drawers. “There, all nice and tidy.”

Ford hung his head, his broken glasses slipping to the edge of his nose. It was a like Stan’s heart was being squeezed in a vice every time he saw how broken his twin was. Stan blamed himself for this. He had been the one to go looking for a fight after Crampelter had cornered Ford and threatened to cut off his extra fingers. Then he had taken it too far and put Crampelter in the hospital. Stan wasn’t even sure how he had gotten the upper hand when fighting the larger boy. (The boxing lessons probably helped.) During the fight all he could see was red but he had apparently done some damage. Then he had gotten expelled and he hadn’t been there when Crampelter’s friends decided to get revenge by attacking Ford. Ford still refused to tell him what happened. He refused to tell anybody what happened. He wouldn’t even tell who had attacked him. Stan just assumed it had to be Crampelter’s cronies.

Stan pulled the suitcases off of the bottom bunk and gestured to it. “You go ahead and take a nap. I’ll finish unpacking our stuff.”

“Lee, you don’t have to-”

He reached over and pulled off Ford’s broken glasses. “Please.”

Ford gave in with a nod. He sat down on the edge of the bed, toed off his shoes, then curled up on top of the sheets. The fact that he had given in so easily was another unnerving factor.

 Stan set the glasses down on the tiny night stand that was near the bed. The arm of the glasses had been badly bent, the little bar holding the lenses together in the middle had been snapped clean in half then taped back together, and one of the lenses was cracked. Stan found himself irrationally angry that the glasses hadn’t held up better in the attack. How dare these things that were supposed to be helping his brother fail him? How could Stan have failed him? He was the stronger of the two of them. He had promised his parents on how many occasions as they were walking out the door that he would protect Ford. It was always, “Stan you take care of your brother. And Ford you keep Stan out of trouble.” He hadn’t taken care of Ford then, but he would do it now. He wasn’t going to let Ford ever get hurt again.

Stan turned back to the suitcases. He quickly finished shoving all of his clothes into drawers and haphazardly hanging up the stuff that wouldn’t fit in his allotted space in the dresser. Then he turned to Ford’s suitcase. He took more care with Ford’s stuff. He hung up the nicer pieces of clothing and kept the stuff that was meant to go into drawers folded as neatly as their mother had packed it. He had to prove there was something he could do right.

* * *

 

Ford woke up to find that the sun was setting outside his window. It took a moment for him to remember where he was. He wasn’t in New Jersey anymore. He and Stanley had been sent to live with their older brother in Oregon. And it was all his fault. If he had never told Lee about Crampelter’s threat none of this would have happened. ~~If he weren’t such a freak~~ …

Now Stan felt like he needed to be his guard dog. He was constantly there, literally holding his hand through everything. And what was worse was that Ford wanted him to be there, needed him. The one time Stan hadn’t been there... ~~he thought they were going to kill him~~.

Ford sat up. His arm was aching and throbbing. He reached for his glasses and was careful with the fragile frames as he slipped them onto his face. They sat lopsided on his face now and the tape chafed against the bridge of his nose. It was like the icing on top of a really terrible cake that he never asked for.

He walked out into the living room to see, Shermie and Stan sitting on the couch talking, while Lucy, Shermie’s wife, was setting out dinner on the small kitchen table. The smell of spaghetti and meatballs set his mouth watering.

“Oh, he’s awake,” Shermie waved Ford over to the couch and Ford suddenly realized that Stan and Shermie hadn’t been talking to each other but to someone on the phone.

“It’s Ma and Pa,” Stan explained as Ford approached.

He sat down next to Stan, and Shermie handed him the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, baby,” his mom said, voice thick with emotion. “How are you doing? Stanley said you were taking a nap. Did something happen?”

“No. I was just tired from the trip.” His voice sounded oddly monotone in his ears.

“I’m sorry that we couldn’t afford another ticket for me to go with you two. We should’ve found a way.” Her voice became more distant as she leaned away from the phone. “Filbrick, we should have just borrowed the money from Drew. Loan sharks be damned!”

The thought of his family going into debt because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut made Ford’s chest constrict. Everyone had already given up so much. ~~Why couldn’t he just keep quiet? Why did he have to be born a freak?~~

“Stanford? Honey?”

“Sorry, Ma. I guess I’m still tired.”

“We shouldn’t keep you too long then.” Her voice became distant again. “Filbrick, come say hi to Stanford.”

A moment later his father’s voice could be heard on the phone. “Hello, Ford.”

“Hi, Pa.”

“Are you and Stan being respectful to your brother and his house?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You thank him yet for letting you two come live him?”

“No, sir. Not yet.”

“Be sure to. I didn’t raise you to be ungrateful.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, Ford,” his father started, hesitating. Pa never hesitated. He always said what he meant and meant what he said. “Your ma and I are proud of you. You’ve been strong, boy.”

Ford could feel the phone shake slightly as his hand trembled. He didn’t deserve the praise. He wasn’t strong. He couldn’t fight back. He just laid there and took it until everything hurt. He screamed and cried. He was a coward.

“Thank you, sir,” he replied hoarsely. He was too much of a coward to correct his father’s judgement of him.

He handed the phone back to Shermie, unable to take any more. Stan’s arm was suddenly there around his shoulders. Ford wanted to feel the comfort in it but he couldn’t. It felt like a weight on his shoulders that he had to carry along with the burdens that were already there.

 

* * *

 

Stan was beginning to think that living in Gravity Falls wouldn’t be too bad. It was still too small, too far away from anything interesting, and there was no beach but Lucy made delicious meatballs. Good food tended to be able to make even the worst situation bearable in Stan’s book. He’d eaten at least ten of those meatballs and he could swear that each one was better than the last. The spaghetti sauce was pretty good too, though it was a bit too salty. Before Stan could think better of it, he said what was on his mind. “Sauce is a bit too salty,” he said through a mouth full of noodles. “But the meatballs are amazing!”

“Stanley, don’t be rude,” Shermie admonished.

Before Stan could argue that it was a compliment, Lucy cut in, “Come on, honey, he was just being honest. And besides, I appreciate the feedback.” She turned to Stan and winked. “The meatballs are a secret family recipe. My grandmother stole it from the safe deposit box of a famous Italian chef while she was robbing a bank.”

Stan’s fork clattered as it hit his plate. He leaned forward, eyes wide with wonder. “Really?!”

Lucy grinned. “No. I found it in a cookbook I got from the library. My story’s more exciting though, right?”

Stanley had only met Lucy a couple of times previously and had never really gotten to talk to her. He didn’t know what to expect coming to live with Shermie but he decided that if she weren’t already married to Shermie he would have proposed on the spot. He turned to his older brother and gave him a very serious look. “Cherish that woman.”

Shermie snorted, stifling a laugh. “Don’t worry. I will.”

Stan turned to Ford expecting to see his usual smile and roll of his eyes that he gave at his twin’s antics, but instead Ford was looking down at his left hand, glaring at it. Stan reached over and grabbed his brother’s hand. Ford looked up, startled, but managed a crooked smile when he met his twin’s eyes.

Yeah, as long as they were together, they could get through anything.


	2. Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day of school.

As Ford brushed his teeth before bed, he was careful not to look in the mirror. He already knew that the bruises that stained his face made him look even more freakish than he already was. He didn’t need to be reminded of this fact. That wasn’t even where the bruises stopped. They littered his torso and extremities, each one a reminder of the attack.

Soon enough they would disappear and his broken arm would heal but Ford knew that the memories wouldn’t fade. He saw those faces every night in his nightmares. He could just close his eyes and vividly recall the blows and the taunts.

Ford leaned over the sink and spit the lather of toothpaste out of his mouth. “Deep breaths, Stanford,” he muttered to himself. “Deep breaths.” He caught a glimpse of green and yellow in the mirror as he turned to the door.

When he exited the bathroom he nearly ran into his older brother. Shermie gave him a nervous smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. Ford didn’t understand why Shermie seemed so nervous around them. They’d known each other their whole lives.

“So, uh, have you boys settled in?” Shermie asked.

Ford nodded. He hated the small talk. If Shermie wanted to say something why didn’t he just say it. They had no problems communicating before all of this.

“Are you liking your room okay?”

He shrugged in response. It was too small but there wasn’t much they could do about that. His older brother was already going above and beyond by letting them live there, he wasn’t about to demand a bigger room out of this deal.

Shermie sighed. “I’ll just leave you to it then.” He looked disappointed. That was when it occurred to Ford that maybe it wasn’t just small talk. Maybe his older brother had actually cared about if they were settling in and if they liked the room.

Ford must seem so ungrateful. He remembered his dad’s reminder to thank Shermie. “Shermie,” he said so softly he was afraid for a moment that his brother hadn’t heard him. But then Shermie turned back, looking hopeful. “Thank you, for letting us live here with you. I know that it must have been difficult to suddenly open your home to me and Stanley, when you’ve just started your new life with Lucy. Lee and I don’t want to have to be here and we hate the circumstances that we’ve had to come here under, but we both appreciate your kindness and patience.”

The hug took him by surprise. He instinctually moved to push his brother away but Shermie was already pulling back. “Sorry, Ford, I just… that’s the first thing you’ve said to me since you got here and… I’ve been really worried about you. But you don’t have to thank me, kid. You and Stan have been through a lot. I want this to be a place you can relax in. You’re safe here.”

Ford wasn’t sure he believed it but the sincere smile on Shermie’s face made Ford want it to be true.

 

* * *

 

They had arrived in Gravity Falls in the middle of a week. The next Monday saw the twins getting ready for their first day of school. Ford was trembling as he stared into the mirror. The bruises on his face were almost completely gone now. There were only traces of a couple of brown splotches. That meant no embarrassing questions about what happened to his face. But there was no getting past the six fingers on each of his hands.

There was a sharp knock on the bathroom door. Ford jumped and found himself trembling harder.

“Hey, Sixer, you okay? You’ve been in there a while.”

It was only Stan. He was safe, it was only Stan. _Deep breaths, Stanford._ “Yeah. I’m fine.” His voice was shaky, and didn’t quite sound like him. He needed to pull himself together if he was going to school. If he showed weakness the bullies would smell it like blood in the water. … ~~like the blood pouring out of his nose as he laid there, crying out with each hit~~ …

“You don’t sound fine.” The doorknob rattled as Stan tried to turn it. “Unlock the door.” It was a cross between a request and an order. Ford could refuse but Stan would be left worrying about him. He reached over and unlocked the door.

Stan entered and leaned back against the door. “You shouldn’t get yourself so worked up,” he said with a concerned frown wrinkling his brow. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

“I’m not worked up,” he argued weakly. “I’m just…” _“We’re gonna kill you, then your guard dog, you six-fingered freak!”_

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Stan insisted. “I’ll be careful not to get in trouble, I promise. I’ll make sure that I’m always there right next to you.” Stan hugged him from the side, resting his forehead against Ford’s shoulder.

The arms around him were suffocating. It felt like he couldn’t get a full breath of air into his lungs. But he didn’t want Stan to leave. It was a paradox of wanting to push his brother away in every sense but also wanting to cling to the protection that his twin gave. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

* * *

 

 

Stanford and Stanley slipped on their coats and hefted their backpacks onto their shoulders. “I can carry your bag for you,” Stan offered.

Ford adjusted the strap that was only on his left shoulder. “Its okay. I’ve got it.” He could carry his nearly empty backpack. They hadn’t even gotten their books yet.

As Shermie opened the front door, Lucy ran over with a small package. “Wait! Stanford, this came while you boys were getting ready for school. I think its your glasses.”

Shermie closed the front door once more and gave Ford an encouraging smile. “Look at that. Now you won’t have to wear your broken ones on your first day.”

Ford reached to take the package. It would be a relief to not have to sport taped glasses. It would have been another thing to make him stick out. “Thank you, Lucy,” he said.

Stan grabbed the package before Ford could get a grip on it and ripped it open. Anger blazed in Ford’s chest for a moment, wanting to yell at his brother for not letting him even open his own mail, but it went out just as quickly. Stan was just trying to help and it was Ford’s fault they were in this position.

“Hey, knucklehead,” Shermie said as he pulled the now open package out of Stan’s hands. “Ford’s not an invalid. Let him open his package.”

Ford smiled, feeling a wave of gratitude toward his older brother. He managed to maneuver the box once Shermie handed it to him and pulled out the new glasses case. Lucy took the now empty box as Ford swapped out his broken glasses and put on the new ones. They were the same frames which gave him a warm feeling of familiarity. He wasn’t going to have to be self-conscious all day about a new style of frames.

“Looking good, Sixer,” Stan said as he gave a thumbs up.

“You look very handsome,” Lucy commented as she reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

Ford felt a blush warm his cheeks at the attention. It was a bit overwhelming, but also made his chest puff out with pride. “Thanks,” he mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Okay, guys. We gotta go or we’ll be late.” Shermie clapped his hands together and opened the front door again. “I’ll see you after I drop the kids off,” he said as he turned to his wife.

Stan and Ford scurried out the door then turned back to see their older brother giving Lucy a quick goodbye kiss. Stan made an exaggerated gagging sound and Ford gave him a shove. “Stop being so juvenile,” he said with a roll of his eyes. Stan looked at him with a satisfied grin and Ford felt like he had missed something. He decided not to dwell on it in favor of getting in the car.

 

* * *

 

Stan was still patting himself on the back as they drove through town toward the middle school. He had successfully distracted Ford. The way that Ford had shoved him and rolled his eyes, it had been just like before everything happened. It was like for a moment, they were back in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey, annoying each other, on their way to another normal day at school. All Stan wanted was for things to be like how they were.

But all too soon the car ride was over and Shermie was parking. The middle school building loomed over them. It was made up of two large tan buildings with a green field sprawling out behind them. Stan could hear Ford’s shaky breaths, in and out. He looked over at his twin. It made his stomach twist when he saw that all the color had drained from Ford’s face. Stan grabbed his hand and gave it a light squeeze.

“Stanley, Stanford,” Shermie addressed as he turned to look at them. “I know that you guys are probably nervous, but you’re going to do fine. This is a new start. You’ve got this, okay?”

Stan knew that Shermie was trying to be reassuring but it wasn’t working. _New start, my ass. Bullies are the same wherever you go._ He wasn’t going to let his guard down for a second. He wasn’t going to screw up again, not when the last time had such serious consequences.

Shermie took them inside, got them their schedules and books, then all too soon the first bell was ringing. Stan grabbed hold of Ford’s hand and held it firmly, silently reaffirming his promise that he wouldn’t leave his twin for anything. Their older brother sighed as he glanced toward the doors that led back out to the parking lot then back at the twins. Middle schoolers walked by heading to their classes. Some glanced back at the Pines family, but most ignored their presence in the corridor.

“I guess I should get going,” Shermie said reluctantly. “How about I take you guys to get ice cream when I pick you up after school? Does that sound good?”

Stan rolled his eyes at that. “Do we look like little kids to you?” Ice cream did sound good though. He looked to Ford who didn’t seem to be paying attention. Ford would probably like some ice cream after all of this. It didn’t make him a baby if he was going along with it for his brother.

“Oh, uh, okay.” Shermie was rubbing the back of his neck as he sighed. “We don’t have to-”

“If you insist, Shermie. Fine. We’ll get ice cream after school.” Stan shrugged as if it was a huge burden to agree to getting ice cream. “Don’t go twisting my arm.”

Shermie shook his head as he smiled down at Stan. His eyes flicked to Ford and he leaned down slightly to meet his gaze. “Ford, you hear that? We’re going to get ice cream after school.”

Ford jumped and shuffled back away from Shermie. His broken arm was tucked close to his chest and he was gripping Stan’s hand in a vice like grip. “I- O-okay,” he stuttered out.

After Shermie left, they went to find their lockers, right beside each other. They dropped off their unneeded books and headed to homeroom. It was a relief to find that their homeroom teacher and most of the other teachers didn’t seem to care enough to make a big deal out of new students. No one drew attention to them and they stayed out of the way enough to not draw attention to themselves. It was perfect. Well, it was perfect until art class.

Art was the only extra-curricular that had room for both of them. As soon as they entered the room the teacher lit up like Christmas had come early. They both tensed knowing that this wasn’t good. No one else had shown this sort of interest in them. Stan grabbed Ford’s hand.

They took their seats at a table that had only one other student sitting at it. The other student was a red headed girl with a smattering of freckles on her face and arms. Her hair was in two braids that hung over her shoulders. She wore jeans and a green collared shirt that Stan was pretty sure was a boy’s shirt.

Her arms were folded on the table, her chin resting on top. She looked bored enough that Stan hoped she would just fall asleep and not bother them. Unfortunately, she seemed to perk up as they sat down. “Hey,” she greeted. Stan nodded in acknowledgement while Ford just stared down at the table.

The bell rang to signal the start of class and the teacher walked around to the front of her desk. Her flowy, light blue dress, swished like a cape as she turned to address them. “We have quite the treat today class!” she announced. Her voice was high and irritating. Stan was certain that she had to be making herself sound like that on purpose. No one’s voice could actually be that naturally annoying. “We have new students. And they’re twins! Come up here boys.”

Ford made no movement so Stan stayed seated. It was up to Ford. He wasn’t going to let anyone make his brother do anything he didn’t want to do.

“Come on! Don’t be shy,” she prodded.

“No, thanks!” Stan said with as charming a grin as he could muster. As much as he wanted to tell this woman to shut her yap and leave them alone, he couldn’t. If he got in trouble, they would make him leave Ford. He had to play it cool, and turn on the charm. He glanced down at the schedule he’d been holding onto all day to find the teacher’s name. “No, disrespect, Ms. Zane, but we’d rather stay here at our table.”

She pouted but nodded her acquiescence. “Fine, fine. Go ahead and introduce yourselves, tell us where you moved here from and something you like about art.”

Why couldn’t this woman take a hint? They weren’t here to put on show for her. _Think about Ford. If you snap then you’ll get sent to the office and Ford will be all alone._ “My name is Stanley,” he forced out in an even tone. He glanced at Ford and saw the pure panic on his face as his eyes darted around the room. Everyone was staring at them. “And this is my brother Stanford.” There were a couple of giggles at that. Ford grabbed his hand under the table. “We’re from New Jersey. Let’s see… What do I like about art? Well, at my old school we went to an art museum on a field trip once and I liked all the paintings of naked ladies.” He couldn’t help it, the comment slipped out before he could stop himself. The whole class laughed, even the girl sitting at their table.

The teacher didn’t yell at Stan, she didn’t even frown. “Calm down class,” she said with a mild smile on her face. “There are many ways to appreciate art. The human body is a beautiful thing. Thank you, Stanley. I’m sure it will be… interesting having you and your brother in my class. Now, today we will be sketching still life.”

Ms. Zane set up a bowl of fruit on a chair and a black curtain over the back of it as a backdrop. She then began stopping by each table to chat with the students as they worked. Even with tolerating his antics Stan was wary of her. She made Ford uncomfortable and he wasn’t about to forgive that easily.

Stan drew the apple that sat on top of all the other fruit but then gave it arms, legs, and a face. His picture would be much more fun than some stupid fruit in a bowl. After a few minutes he looked over to see that Ford had seemed to lose himself in sketching an exact replica of their model. Stan smiled, glad to see Ford was focused on his work.

He was about to go back to his drawing when he saw that the girl was looking over at his picture. “What do you want?” he asked as he covered his sketchpad with his arm.

“I’m looking at your drawing. I like it,” she said simply, then went back to her work, leaving Stan dumbfounded. He hadn’t expected the genuine compliment, especially after the aggressive tone he’d used with her.

Stan peeked over at her work. It was nothing special, just an average sketch that any middle schooler could manage if they tried. He still found himself trying to think of a way to compliment her drawing in return. “Yours… is nice?”

The girl smirked and set down her pencil. “That the best you can come up with?”

He bristled at her sudden teasing. “Well, you’re no Michael Angela,”

“Michelangelo,” Ford corrected not looking away from his sketch.

“Yeah, that guy.”

He waited for her to yell at him or even move to another table. “I know that. I’m not stupid. I didn’t even want to be in this class,” she said with a roll of her eyes. This girl was full of surprises. “I wanted to be in woodshop, but I got kicked out because there wasn’t enough room for the boys. It was either this or home economics.”

“That’s bullshit,” Stan said, feeling outraged on her behalf.

“Language, Stanley,” Ford said, studying their model.

The girl paused, looking at Stan while chewing the inside of her cheek. “My name’s Lizzie,” she said finally as she held out her hand. “Lizzie Corduroy.”

 “Stan Pines.” He grasped her hand in a firm handshake. She gave him a toothy grin and his stomach did a weird flip that made him pull his hand back. He didn’t know why but he was suddenly trying to remember if he had combed his hair that morning.


	3. Strawberry Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of their first day of school.

The cafeteria was loud, echoing the chatter of the many middle schoolers’ conversations. Ford hated the noise and the crowds. Fortunately, the twins found an empty table to sit at that was away from the louder tables. It was by the trashcans but neither of them really minded. Ford was just relieved that they could eat alone, in peace.

The day had been better than he had dared to hope. There had been no comments about his fingers, no bullies harassing them. They had somehow gotten away with staying relatively invisible for the first half of the day. Art class had been a struggle but even that Stan had managed a work around for them fairly well. Ford could see the light at the end of the tunnel. They just had to make it through three more classes.

Ford scooped a forkful of green beans into his mouth when someone suddenly slid onto the bench beside him.

“Hey, guys,” Lizzie said as she set her tray onto the table with a slight clatter. “I hope you don’t mind. I saw a free seat and thought why not sit with the Stan twins.”

“Why would you want to sit with us?” Ford asked after he’d swallowed. Stan threw him a glare from across the table but he ignored it.

“Well, we’re friends now, right?” she said with a laugh. “I mean, when you survive one of Ms. Zane’s art classes together it bonds you for life.”

Ford didn’t know how to respond. At their old school, no one had wanted to be friends with him or Stanley. It had always been just the two of them. Sure, he had always thought it would be nice to have friends, but he didn’t know this girl. Was she just trying to get close to them so that she could pull a cruel prank on them?

“Yeah, we’re friends. Sure,” Stan was saying with a shrug, trying to seem casual. But he was grinning, obviously thrilled that Lizzie had assumed the three of them were friends.

“So, is it just the two of you or do you guys have other siblings?” Lizzie asked as she dug into the cafeteria meatloaf.

“We have an older brother,” Stan replied. “He runs the Pines Bed and Breakfast.”

“Oh, so he’s the guy that Lucy married,” Lizzie said, nodding to herself.

Ford couldn’t help but chime in. “You know Lucy?”

“Of course. She grew up here.” Lizzie waved her fork around as she spoke, a piece of green bean flew off of the prongs and landed next to Stan’s tray. Neither of them seemed to notice. “She used to babysit me and Charlie, my older brother. Lucy had already moved to Jersey when my little sister and younger brother were born. Jessie is in preschool and Baby Danny is, well, just a baby.”

The conversation carried on from there. Stan seemed enthralled in whatever Lizzie had to say. Ford was still wary of her, unsure whether he could trust someone they’d just met. He wanted to believe that someone could want to be their friend, but they’d been burned too many times. He recalled an incident back in third grade. Brian Kelso had invited them to play with him during recess. They’d been so excited someone else wanted to play with them that they hadn’t questioned it. He had led them behind the big tree on the playground and it had turned out to be an ambush. Several other boys had jumped out and grabbed them. They’d gone home covered in mud and bruises. It had been after that that their dad put them into boxing lessons.

He glanced over at Lizzie. She seemed genuine. Her eyes crinkled as she laughed whenever Stan told a joke or made a pun. Her hands moved enthusiastically as she spoke, sharing a story about her siblings. It was almost like she really wanted to be their friend. But Ford wouldn’t fall for it. He wouldn’t trust this girl until he could be sure.

 

* * *

 

After school, true to his word, Shermie took them out for ice cream. Ford licked at his strawberry cone while Stan talked through spoonfuls of his chocolate ice cream with cookie crumbs and toffee peanuts toppings. “And Lizzie is so cool!” Stan gushed. “Her dad is a lumberjack and she built her own treehouse when she was eight.”

“Do you mean Lizzie Corduroy?” Shermie asked after he swallowed a bite of his cookie dough ice cream.

“Yeah! Do you know her?” Stan looked suspiciously at Shermie and put down his spoon. “You don’t have some sort of blood feud with her family or something, right? Cause she’s our friend and we won’t let something like that come between us!”

Ford sighed and lowered his cone from his mouth. “She told us at lunch that Lucy used to babysit her. Does that sound like a blood feud to you?”

Shermie chuckled at Stan’s dramatics. “I recognize the name cause her dad built the bed and breakfast for us, you knucklehead.”

Stan shoved another bite of ice cream into his mouth. “Can never be too careful. I’ve heard about that small towns like this have family feuds all the time. And they usually end in shootouts. Like those hat people and the McCoys.”

“Anyways,” their older brother said slowly. “It sounds like you guys had a good day. I’m glad. I know that things were pretty terrible at your old school. I didn’t exactly have a good time in school, back in Glass Shard Beach, either. But maybe you guys can have something good here.”

Stan nodded enthusiastically, mouth so full of ice cream that he couldn’t speak. Ford looked down at a melted stream of strawberry ice cream that ran down the cone and over his sixth finger. It was only the first day. No one had had the chance to notice that he was freak. Once they did… _~~“Beg us to let you live, freak!”~~_

A large hand landed on his shoulder. Ford flinched so hard he dropped his ice cream onto the floor. The cone broke and the ice cream splattered onto the laminate flooring of the shop.

“Oh, shi-, I mean, sorry about that, Ford.” Shermie grabbed some napkins and started cleaning up the mess as a teenage boy ran out from behind the counter to help.

Stan looked at Ford from across the table. _You okay?_ He asked silently.

Ford looked away, staring at the mess on the ground. He didn’t want Stan to see his answer. He wasn’t okay. His twin was adapting so quickly. Stan was moving forward, making friends, ready to put everything that happened at their old school behind him. Ford was frustrated that he couldn’t do the same. He was supposed to be a genius. He was supposed be mentally strong while Stan was physically strong. So why couldn’t he figure out a way to not let the past affect him.

 

* * *

 

That evening their parents called again. Stan was unnerved by the monotone way Ford spoke to them. He had tried to keep his brother in good spirits. They’d had a good day at school, and made a new friend. For some reason after the ice cream shop, Ford went back to being all gloomy and reserved. Part of Stan was scared that no matter how good this new school was that the old Ford was gone forever.

When it was his turn on the phone, his mom said “Hi, baby,” in what he was sure was supposed to a cheerful tone. But he could hear the way her voice wavered slightly.

“Hi, Ma,” he replied. “We made a new friend at school.” He was trying to reassure her. He wanted his mom to know that they were doing fine, perhaps better than any of them had expected. “She’s really cool, we-”

“I’m sorry, baby, but is Stanford doing alright. Really? He doesn’t sound good.”

Stan watched as Ford trudged down the short hallway to their room. He laid down on the couch and let out a shuddering breath. “I think he’s just tired, ya know. He was really nervous about today and I think he wore himself out worrying about all the bad things he thought were going happen. But we had a good day! I was saying that we made a friend-”

He was cut off by the sound of a muffled argument, then a different voice came on the phone. “Are you taking care of your brother, Stanley?” his father asked.

Stan automatically sat back up. “Yes, sir.” Of course, that’s all they cared about. Ford was the twin who was going places. Just ‘cause they left New Jersey didn’t mean that anything about that suddenly changed. Their dad probably saw them like all the objects in the pawn shop. He had assigned a dollar value to them. Stan’s was no more than a pack of gum, while Ford’s was in the thousands, no, millions.

Stan was only there to take care of Ford. And that was okay. Ford never treated him like he was less. He was happy to be there for him and protect him. He just wished that sometimes their parents could at least pretend like he mattered.

“Good. Your mother and I can’t be there and we both know Sherman isn’t any use under pressure. It’s up to you, unfortunately.” The word “unfortunately” was growled out, like Filbrick was settling for Stan even though he wasn’t good enough.

Stan’s grip tightened on the phone. Tears were stinging behind his eyes but he wouldn’t let them fall. He would prove that he could take care of Ford. He wouldn’t fail him again. He could do it. _I can do it._ “I can do it.” It came out rawer and more forcefully than he’d meant it to.

There was a grunt of… approval?

“I promise, Pa.”

“Don’t promise, just do it.”

 

* * *

 

That night Stan was laying on the top bunk, which was weird. Even after several nights of it, it was strange being so close to the ceiling. Once Ford’s arm was healed, they needed to switch back.

He looked down at the digital clock sitting on the night stand. It was already two in the morning. He’d only been able to lightly doze. The conversation on the phone with his parents was still running through his head. _“Don’t promise, just do it.”_ He’d gotten himself expelled instead of protecting his brother. Of course, his dad wouldn’t trust that he could take care Ford. But he would do better. Tomorrow he would be even better at it. He was going to be there for Ford no matter what.

Stan closed his eyes and just as he was starting to drift to sleep, he heard it. A sob sounded from below him. He leapt out of bed, sliding down the ladder and his feet hit the floor a bit painfully. He looked over into the bed to see that Ford was still fast asleep. Tears were leaking out of his closed lids and he was making whimpering noises with the occasional sob. It was so pitiful. It was something Stan never wanted to hear coming from his twin again.

“Sixer, wake up.” Stan knelt on the bed and shook his brother gently but firmly. “Hey, its just a bad dream. Wake up.”

Ford’s eyes shot open as he let out a sharp gasp. He yanked himself away from Stan, holding his broken arm close to his chest. “Don’t hurt me! Please!”

Stan hated the way Ford looked at him. His twin was scared… of him. It made his gut twist and bile burn in the back of his throat. Wide eyes that were looking up at him were shining with tears. Ford’s whole body was trembling, curled up in the corner of his bed.

“Ford, it’s just me. It’s just Stanley.”

It took a moment but all of the fear left his face to be replaced with… nothing. There was just nothing. That was worse. Ford was still trembling, though. Stan crawled into bed beside him without waiting for an invitation.

“I’m fine,” Ford started as he tried to scrub the tear stains from his face. “I don’t need-”

“That’s fine.” Stan leaned his head on Ford’s shoulder. “But I had a bad dream. I need my bro bro, if that’s okay?”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Ford put his arm around him.

Stan didn’t say anything when he saw more tears trail down Ford’s cheeks. He didn’t ask about the nightmare or if there had been any others that he didn’t know about. He didn’t move when he heard his twin’s breathing even out as he fell asleep. And Stan didn’t let himself slumber for fear of not being awake if Ford happened to have another nightmare.


	4. Rumors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie introduces Stan and Ford to the tip of the weirdness iceberg that is Gravity Falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait for this chapter. School got the better of me as I was trying to finish up a couple of projects. But I did get the rough drafts of the next few chapters written so those should get posted pretty quickly (fingers crossed). I added "past emotional abuse" to the tags cause I ended up deciding to deal with a bit more of how being raised by Filbrick affected the boys in the next few chapters. (At this point its mostly going to be in chapters 5 and 6)  
> Well, I'll let you get on with the reading now. :)

The rest of the week was more of the same as the first day. Most people ignored them except for Lizzie who talked to them during art class and sat with them during lunch. Stan soaked up her presence like the sun. Ford didn’t mind it as much as he thought he would. Ever since that first day, Stan had been hovering more than usual, which Ford didn’t think was even possible. But whenever Lizzie was around Stan backed off enough to give Ford some breathing room.

Friday was a different story though. On Friday, when they entered homeroom, the room went silent. Ford grabbed onto Stan’s hand reflexively. They had noticed. Someone had finally noticed that he was a six-fingered freak. They were going to mock him and attack him, punch him until they were satisfied that he knew his place. ~~He could still hear the loud crack that his arm made when a foot had stomped down on it.~~

Everyone’s eyes were on them as they made their way to their desks. They sat down beside each other, Stan still holding onto his hand. Ford was grateful for it. Right now, the feeling of his brother’s slightly sweaty palm was what was grounding him.

The teacher wasn’t there yet. Surely, someone would make a move. A girl on the right side of the room, leaned over to whisper to the girl beside her. Ford couldn’t hear them, but the first girl was gesturing to him and Stan. It would start with whispers, that would grow into jeering, then once everyone was tired of laughing at him, the attacks would turn physical in order to sate their appetite for humiliating freaks.

The bell rang and it startled Ford into dropping Stan’s hand. Their homeroom teacher entered and everyone at least pretended to turn their attention to the morning announcements. Ford couldn’t help but think that their one week of reprieve had ended. The walls he had started to let down were being pulled back up as he waited for the imminent assault from his classmates.

Their first couple of classes passed much the same way. The others students stared at them and gave them a wide berth, but no one actually did or said anything to them. Ford couldn’t focus on the class material, too preoccupied with waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It was on their way to art class that something finally happened. A boy running past them in the hall slammed into Ford’s shoulder, jostling his broken arm and making him drop his backpack from his other shoulder.

Ford cried out and pulled his broken arm close to his chest as he waited for the pain to pass. The other boy’s eyes went wide as they darted from Ford to Stan.

“Watch where you’re going!” Stan snapped at the other boy.

“Sorry!” the boy yelped. He stepped back holding his hands up, placating. “Sorry about that! I didn’t mean to. I mean- uh, here!” He scooped up Ford’s backpack and held it out to him.

Before Ford could react, Stan had already snatched it out of the boy’s hand. The boy then darted off, leaving both twins unsure of what had just happened.

“What was that?” Ford asked with a raised eyebrow.

Stan shrugged in response.

They headed into the art classroom and sat down at their usual table. As the other students trickled in, they all crammed themselves into the tables farthest from Stan and Ford, leaving the tables surrounding theirs empty.

Ford turned to Stan and asked him in a low voice. “Do you think this is because…” It hurt to say it out loud. He wanted Stan to tell him that it couldn’t be. That the other kids could not possibly be avoiding him because of what a freak he was. But he also knew that Stan would say whatever would make him feel better, even if it wasn’t true.

Lizzie entered the classroom and rolled her eyes when she saw all the students crowded around the tables furthest away from Stan and Ford. “How’s my favorite pair of twins in Gravity Falls?”

Ford watched as a blush colored Stan’s face. He sighed. Great. His brother was going to be distracted by a crush, while he was over here being driven crazy with anxiety,wondering when the bullying was going to begin.

But then Stan surprised Ford by actually staying focused. “Hey, Lizzie, do you know why everyone is acting so… uh, weird? Everyone’s been avoiding us and staring at us all day.”

Lizzie looked over her shoulder and made a disgusted noise as she turned back. “Just ignore them. Some kid overheard the teachers talking about you guys in the teachers’ lounge. Now there’s some rumor going around that you murdered a kid at your old school for messing with Ford.”

“Oh…” Stan frowned as he looked down at the surface of the table. Ford put a hand on his shoulder. It was strange realizing that none of this had to do with his fingers. Right now, Stan was the abnormal one. The fact that Ford felt relieved made his stomach twist with shame. Stan seemed really affected by this and here he was just happy that he wasn’t the weird one for once.

Stan looked up and grinned. “Cool!”

A laugh bubbled up, and Ford tried to suppress it.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “You’re happy that kids are scared of you?”

“You know what?” Stan started as he leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Being loved by our peers is overrated. Being feared? Now that’s priceless.”

Ford couldn’t hold it back any longer. He clapped a hand over his mouth, muffling his laughter. He shouldn’t be finding this funny, but he was too relieved to care. His brother wasn’t bothered by the rumor and seemed to actually be enjoying his new status. There was also the fact that no one seemed to care about his hands. They must have noticed by now. It had been a whole week of sketching in art class, handing off quizzes and worksheets to the students who sat next to him in classes, and even being called up to solve a problem on the board during math class. They had to have noticed, but no one gave him a second glance.

Stan looked over at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You think I could use this new reputation to get extra dessert in the cafeteria?”

Ford fought to give his brother a stern look but didn’t quite manage it. They both broke into laughter, neither of them able to keep a straight face. Lizzie was shaking her head at them.

It was later during class, while Ms. Zane was talking about lighting and shadow that Ford’s mind wandered back to the thought of how no one had noticed his six fingers. Ms. Zane was waving her hand in front of a lamp, making shadow puppets on the wall. He looked down at his own hand and flexed his fingers. He’d been so worried. The anxiety over someone saying something about his hands had kept him up at night. Had it been for nothing? Had he just been unlucky enough to be born in the one town where people cared about the fact that he had six fingers? Did the rest of the world just shrug off something so freakish?

“You okay there, Poindexter?” Stan asked in a low voice.

He nodded, not wanting to worry his twin, but he could still feel Stan watching him. He looked back up at the front of the classroom, letting his hand rest on top of the table. That was new for him. He normally kept his hands in his lap, hidden under the table or fisted behind his back, or sometimes tucked in his pockets. He wanted to test this though. It was an experiment. One that was terrifying, but he needed to ensure that they saw. That way he could know if the people around him genuinely didn’t mind his abnormality.

 

* * *

 

Stan was enjoying his newfound reputation. With everyone thinking that he would lose it if someone even looked at Ford the wrong way, he was finding it less stressful trying to keep his promise to his dad to protect his twin. It was fun to joke and laugh with Lizzie and Ford about the ridiculousness of the rumors. Though at times he would glance Ford’s way to see his twin deep in thought. Ford was always in his head about something but the way he was staring down at his six-fingered hands had Stan concerned.

He’d tried to ask Ford what was going on in his head but his brother just brushed the questions off. Eventually, he could tell that his insistent questions were annoying his twin and he had to give up. But now school was over and he and Ford were supposed to walk back to the bed and breakfast. He planned to ask his brother again once they were on the forest road back home.

They were on the front steps of the school when Lizzie came running up. “Hey, guys! Wait up!”

Stan paused and turned back. Her ponytail of red hair swung back and forth as she jogged over to them. “I wanted to show the both of you something. Have you got some time before you need to get home?”

“Yeah,” he replied automatically. Then he remembered Ford. He turned to his brother who had continued to walk a few feet further before also pausing. Ford had had a hard time already that day. He couldn’t ask him to run around town just because Stan wanted to have an adventure with their new friend.

But Ford didn’t look annoyed or tired, or even nervous, instead he tipped his head curiously to the side. “What are you going to show us?” he asked.

Lizzie grinned and winked at him. “That’s a surprise.”

Stan watched as Ford’s expression hardened. “I don’t like surprises,” Ford told her.

“Don’t worry. I promise that you’ll like this one.” She put a hand on Ford’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly. He flinched at the contact but nodded.

* * *

 

 

Lizzie led them out of town and into the woods. Everything smelled fresh, like pine trees. The twigs, leaves, and dried pine needles crackled underfoot. It was so different from the salty air, and the loose sand that shifted beneath his bare feet back in Glass Shard Beach. Stan didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

“You guys don’t really talk about what it was like in New Jersey,” Lizzie suddenly commented. She climbed up onto a flat rock that looked like a small table made for gnomes or something, then leapt off. “I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I was just wondering.”

Stan looked at Ford. His twin was crouching down to study a hole at the base of a nearby tree. He wanted to talk about their old home. They’d had such good memories there. But he wasn’t sure if Ford considered the whole thing tainted by what had happened to him.

Ford straightened and turned to Lizzie. Stan wondered if Ford was going to tell her that the topic was off limits. “We lived in a place called Glass Shard Beach.”

“You lived on a beach?” Lizzie said in wonderment. “I’ve never been to the beach, just the lake here in Gravity Falls but that’s not the same.” Her nose scrunched up seemingly at the very thought of someone trying to compare the two.

Stan grinned, relieved that Ford considered their old home an acceptable subject of conversation. “We had this boat, called the Stan O’ War, but we had to leave it behind,” he added. It wasn’t until he said it that Stan felt the loss of their shared dream. Something hadn’t clicked in his head until that moment. Their boat was gone. It was there on the New Jersey beach where anyone could take it for their own or vandalize it how they saw fit.

They would never finish fixing it up. They would never sail away on it to find adventure, or babes, or treasure. He felt like he was going to be sick. Hot tears stung his eyes, threatening to spill over. No. He wouldn’t cry. It was a stupid dream anyways. Who was he kidding? Ford was going to be someone some day, why would he want to be weighed down by his dumb twin on some old, broken down sail boat?

A hand slipped into his, breaking him from his reverie. He looked over to see Ford, who was giving him a gentle smile. “Don’t worry, Lee. We’ll get a new boat. We can call it the Stan O’ War II.”

“This time it’s personal!” Lizzie added in her best movie trailer voice.

They all laughed as they began walking again, following the red-head to whatever surprise she had in store.

* * *

 

 

It was a little over half an hour later that Lizzie stopped in her tracks. She stooped to examine the forest floor, then gestured to the right. “This way,” she said in a low voice.

“You’re not leading us to like, I don’t know, a family of hungry bears or anything, right?” Ford asked with a nervous laugh.

“I could totally take a bear in a fight,” Stan boasted. “I mean, I took down Crampelter, and he’s practically the size of an adult bear.”

“Both of you, shut up and wait here,” Lizzie ordered. She left them standing next to a pine tree and walked into a small clearing. She took cautious steps toward a hollowed-out log, digging through her backpack for something as she went. She pulled out a bag of slightly squished bread and crouched down before one end of the log.

Stan rocked back on his heels, bursting with questions about what she was doing. Lizzie broke off pieces of the bread and left a little trail leading out of the log, as she did a strange little waddle backwards while staying in a crouched position. He tried to picture what it was in the log that she was trying to tempt out of its hiding space. Maybe a raccoon, or a badger, either of those would be kind of cool. She left a full slice of bread at the end of the trail, then straightened up and stepped back.

They waited and waited, and just when Stan was about to call the whole thing a bust and suggest they go home, something poked its head out. It had a bill like a duck. But what would a duck be doing so far from water? Then it fully waddled out, gobbling up the pieces of bread. It was a platypus, but it had such weird coloring. Did someone paint a plaid pattern onto the animal?

Lizzie carefully approached it, then sat down on the ground next to it and started scratching its head. “Come on, guys,” she said, motioning for them to sit down next to her. “She won’t bite.”

Stan looked at Ford. They both shrugged and went to sit down next to their friend. Lizzie pulled her hand back as Stan and Ford reached out to pet the strange creature. Ford took over scratching its head, while Stan pet the soft plaid fur on its back.

Stan was surprised to find that it didn’t feel like regular animal fur. Instead it felt like the flannel blanket that his mom would put around Stan and Ford on freezing winter nights. It was calming to just run his hand over the small creature.

“This is a plaidypus,” Lizzie informed them.

“Yeah, we can see that it’s a platypus, but why does it look like that?” Stan asked, gesturing to the patterned fur.

“No, it’s a _plaid_ -ypus,” she repeated, emphasizing the first part of the word. “Lumberjacks around here have hunted them for their uniquely patterned pelts for generations. The plaidypuses are harmless and I… I try to protect them as best as I can. I don’t think it’s right that they’re killed just to make coats and hats. So, I do my best to hide their location from the lumberjacks who still like to hunt them. That means you guys have to keep this place a secret too. Can I trust you two to do that?”

“Of course,” they both replied simultaneously.

“Good.” She smiled at them and a warmth filled Stan’s chest.

The plaidypus waddled closer to Ford, Stan’s hand slipping off of its back as it went. Then the creature rubbed against Ford’s knee and made a low contented growl.

Lizzie winked at Ford. “She likes you.”

Ford seemed nervous about the creature being so close. He had stopped petting her and had gone very still. But he couldn’t hide the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Stanley, can you hand me my sketchbook please? And one of my pencils too. I want to draw it.”

“You got it, Sixer,” Stan said as he dug through his twin’s backpack, that he had taken over carrying halfway through their journey. He handed Ford the requested items and watched as his brother maneuvered his broken arm so he could prop up the sketchbook and draw with his left hand.

Stan and Lizzie watched Ford sketch in silence for several minutes. It was easy to be like this. This felt like something Stan could imagine himself doing every day: just spending time with Ford and Lizzie. He wondered if they could see it too or if they would even want to.

The plaidypus seemed to tire of staying still for Ford’s drawing. She began to waddle away toward some nearby bushes. Ford scrambled to his feet and followed after her, still sketching as he went.

Lizzie laid back on the forest floor, lacing her fingers behind her head. Stan leaned back on his elbows next to her. She seemed so effortlessly relaxed about everything. He wished he could be like that. He wanted to be able to just take the world as it was. But that wasn’t something Stan could ever do. The world was always against Stan and Ford. It threw as much shit as it could at them. The world wanted to see them break and they were just struggling to hold themselves together.

“I can practically hear the gears cranking away in your head, Stan,” Lizzie said as she looked over at him. “What are you thinking so hard about?”

Stan sighed. “Why… why didn’t you react like everyone else to the rumors about me? How are you so relaxed about it?”

“Well, I’ve gotten to know you, and I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character. I don’t think you’d ever hurt me. And if the rumors are true, you only did it because someone messed with Ford. I’d do the same thing if someone hurt one of my siblings.”

It was a weird feeling, good, but weird, to know that Lizzie trusted him so completely. He felt the warmth in his chest spread, like being back on the beach, but it quickly turned to ice. He wasn’t this good person that she thought he was. He hadn’t protected Ford like she thought he had. Something in Stan told him to take that misconception Lizzie had and crush it.

“I didn’t kill anybody,” he told her as he laid back and laced his fingers behind his head, mimicking her position. “But I really hurt this boy who had been bullying me and my brother our whole lives. Crampelter. He had to go to the hospital. I don’t know what I did to him. I don’t even remember hurting him. All I knew was that he threatened to hurt Ford and I couldn’t let that happen.”

Lizzie was quiet but it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was one that told Stan that he had her full attention. He glanced over at Ford. His twin was at the edge of the clearing, still following after the plaidypus, grinning at the animal’s silly antics. It was the happiest he’d seen Ford since the incident.

“What I did, it didn’t make me a good person, Lizzie. I fucked up really bad. I got expelled from school and…” Stan felt like he was going to be sick. He’d never really admitted that it was his fault, not out loud like this. It was like he was staring over a precipice, getting ready to jump, and he had no idea what was below. “I wasn’t there to protect Ford. Someone hurt him, really bad. He won’t say who did it, but I know it was Crampelter’s friends. I just know it. And it’s all my fault.”

“But it’s not your fault,” Lizzie protested immediately. She propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him. “I doubt that Ford sees anything as your fault either. The only person who did anything wrong is whoever hurt him. If you keep blaming yourself it’s only going to drive you crazy.”

Stan wanted to argue. He wanted to prove to her that he wasn’t blameless in all of this. Why couldn’t she see that? Why did she have to be so… so… whatever she was being? “But I-” he began to argue, but he was cut off by Ford.

“Oh my god!” Ford called over to them. “She has babies!”

Stan and Lizzie both sat up to see that the plaidypus was leading an array of baby plaidypuses out from the bushes. The three tinier versions only had horizontal stripes decorating their fur. Their contented growling sounds were echoing their mother’s in a higher pitch. Ford’s eyes were alight with wonder at the sight of the small creatures.

“Maybe tomorrow we can go looking for the Hide Behind,” Lizzie announced as she tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“The what?” Stan and Ford asked in unison.

 

* * *

 

On the way back, Lizzie teased other strange mysteries she could reveal to them. After seeing something as abnormal as the plaidypus, Ford honestly couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. But he knew that if there were any other wonders Gravity Falls was hiding, he wanted to discover them all.

About halfway home Lizzie split off to head to her house while Stan and Ford continued on toward the bed and breakfast.

“How are you doing?” Stan asked as they walked at a leisurely pace.

“Fine,” Ford answered automatically. It took a moment for him to realize that he’d actually meant it. The excursion into the woods to meet the plaidypus had put him at ease. He’d almost completely forgotten about his earlier anxieties.

“Really?” Stan asked skeptically. “Cause you’ve been lost in your head all day and staring at your hands. What’s going on with you, Sixer?”

The concern in his twin’s eyes made Ford feel guilty. He had brushed off the questions leaving Stan to worry about him. He figured he could tell his brother something to get him to stop worrying.

“I guess, I’ve been on edge waiting for someone to say something about my fingers.” He looked down at his good hand and flexed all six of the fingers there. “But no one cares, do they? It doesn’t matter to anybody here for some reason.”

Stan frowned thoughtfully. “You’re right, no one’s asked me about it either. But that’s a good thing. I mean, people here aren’t going to be dicks about it, so that means we can relax.”

Ford nodded. “It is but, I hadn’t realized…” he trailed off unsure what he was trying to say. _~~I hadn’t realized how much I had defined myself by the taunts and insults of others?~~_ “It’s just overwhelming to suddenly realize I don’t have to worry about that kind of stuff here.”

An arm was thrown around his shoulders and Ford looked over at Stan with a tight smile. “Well, get used to it, Ford. We have a good thing going here. We should both enjoy it,” Stan told him cheerfully. Ford didn’t miss the fact that it was a bit too over the top, a bit forced, but he didn’t call his brother out on it. They were both putting on an act with each other, and hopefully one day they wouldn’t need to, but as things stood it was just the way it was.

By the time they reached home, the sun had almost completely set, casting the surrounding scenery in a pink glow. Ford yawned as they approached the bed and breakfast. He could practically hear his bed calling out to him. He would take a page out of Stan’s book, and let his homework wait until the next day.

When they entered through the front door, Ford was startled into stillness. A middle-aged couple stood at the front desk checking in. The man was chattering on to Shermie about how they had gotten lost on their way up there. “We’ve been on our cross-country road trip for over a week. You’d think that we’d know how to read a map by now,” he said with a booming laugh that made Ford jump.

Shermie nodded and smiled, though he seemed at a loss as to how to reply.

“Honey,” the woman said. “We should probably get upstairs and get settled.”

“In a minute, dear,” the man replied as he waved her off. He turned back to Shermie. “Last week we were in San Francisco. The Golden Gate Bridge is just beautiful. Have you ever been to San Fran?”

Ford felt Stan tug on his arm and he stumbled slightly as he allowed himself to be led forward. He held his breath as they walked by the couple checking in. Shermie was throwing them a look that blared “HELP ME!”. He could hear Stan snickering as they passed without drawing attention to themselves.

They got to the owner’s suite without incident and as soon as they shut the door Ford let out a relieved sigh while Stan started laughing out loud. He felt bad about leaving Shermie behind but he knew that after the day he’d had he wouldn’t be able to handle two strangers asking all the usual “Twins Questions”.

“What’s so funny, guys?” Lucy asked from the kitchen as she set down a freshly baked casserole on the stove.

Stan walked over and plopped down on the couch. “The couple checking in are holding Shermie hostage.”

“Oh, dear. Not again.” Lucy threw the oven mitts she’d been wearing down on the counter and ran out the door.


	5. Arrowhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shermie lets Stan and Ford run the B&B gift shop.

Stan awoke to Shermie shaking his shoulder, hissing “Stan. Stan, wake up.”

He opened his eyes just enough to squint at his older brother. “What day is it?” he asked in a sleepy slur.

“Saturday,” Shermie answered. “Look, I need you-”

“Are Saturday morning cartoons on yet?”

“No, it’s five-thirty in the morning, but I-”

Stan rolled over, facing away from Shermie. “I sleep,” he said simply.

“Come on, Stan.”

“What’s going on?”

Stan groaned upon hearing Ford’s voice coming from the bottom bunk. Great, Shermie had woken Ford up.

“Well, I was hoping to ask you guys for some help this morning. I was even going to pay you.”

Now much more awake, Stan sat up in bed. “Payment? As in actual, real money?” Filbrick had never paid any of them for helping out in the pawn shop. They were always told that the fact that the shop paid to keep them clothed, fed, and a roof over their heads was reason enough for putting them to work.

“Yes, money. Lucy and I accidentally booked two nature walks that overlap. So, I need you two to keep the gift shop open for when Lucy’s group comes back. I have the same cash register Pa uses and everything is marked with prices. Lucy should be able to take over from you guys once she gets back. I just don’t want her trying to get the place open and set up while she has a bunch of people waiting around. Do you think you can do that?”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “This place has a gift shop?” he asked. That hadn’t been in the tour Shermie had given them when they first got there.

“Yes,” their older brother said with an exasperated sigh. “I have talked about it many times now. You walked through it when you were leaving for school yesterday.”

“You can’t expect me to be paying attention so early in the morning,” Stan snapped.

“Will you help me out or not?” Shermie finally demanded, irritation evident in his voice.

Stan allowed an awkward silence to drag out as he climbed down from his bunk. When he turned to his older brother, he could see that he was unnerved by the silence. It was nice to see that he could still make Shermie as uncomfortable as he did when they all lived together under their parents’ roof. It never ceased to entertain him.

“Yeah, of course we’ll help.” Stan patted him on the arm. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

Shermie frowned, looking unsure whether he wanted to thank Stan or tell him off. He opened and closed his mouth several times, doing a perfect impression of a fish. “You- well,- I… God, Stan, why are you like this?”

Stan smiled deciding to take the bewilderment as a compliment. “Got lucky, I guess.”

Shermie shook his head as he exited the room. “I’ll be waiting for you in the gift shop,” he said with resignation.

Once the door clicked shut, he turned back to Ford. His twin looked like he was trying to keep a smile off of his face, but was failing spectacularly. “Why must you antagonize our brother?” Ford asked.

“Why must you talk like you’re in a period drama?”

Ford was silent as he looked at Stan curiously.

“What?”

“I’m just surprised you know what a period drama is.”

Stan reached over and ruffled Ford’s hair. “Shut up, Poindexter.”

 

* * *

 

After getting ready and eating a quick breakfast, they met Shermie in the gift shop. He was just flipping the closed sign to open as they entered. The place was filled with nature themed knick-knacks and t-shirts. Even the wallpaper was a mural of a forest, probably intended to continue the outdoor theme.

Stan picked up a snow globe with a tinier version of the bed and breakfast inside. He shook it and watched the glittery snow floating down. “Oh, now I remember this place. I thought it was just a storage room for all the rejected decorations and clothes Lucy doesn’t let you wear.”

“Someone’s in a bratty mood this morning,” Shermie grumbled, before turning to them.

Stan set down the snow globe on the shelf and smiled at his older brother. “That’s what happens when you wake me up at five in the morning on a Saturday: you get bitchy Stan.”

He enjoyed teasing Shermie. His older brother made it so easy. Back in New Jersey he could tease Ford all the time and his twin did it right back. Now he felt like he had to be so much more careful with Ford. Shermie was fair game though.

“Well,” Shermie said as he clapped his hands together. “Stanley, Stanford, I will be giving you a quick run down of how the gift shop works. My group will be here in,” He looked down at his watch and gulped audibly. “Fifteen minutes.”

He zoomed through an explanation of where everything was and the most important rules and policies. By the end he was standing there stuttering as he tried to think of anything else.

“We’ll be fine!” Stan reassured as he threw an arm around Ford’s shoulders. They were twelve, almost thirteen, they were more than capable of running a gift shop for a few hours. Plus, they had experience from helping out in the pawn shop. “Come on, Sherm. We just had our bar mitzvah last year. That means we’re men! We can run the gift shop until Lucy gets back.”

Shermie ran his hands over his face and groaned. “Okay. The Taylors,” He paused taking in the blank looks on his brothers’ faces. “The guests that arrived yesterday,” he clarified before continuing. “They went with Lucy’s group so you don’t need to worry about them. That does mean I need one of you to do the housekeeping for their room though, before they get back.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Ford offered.

“You sure?” Stan asked. His gaze shifted to his twin’s broken arm. He imagined Ford struggling to change the sheets on the bed while he was down in the gift shop lounging behind the counter. Then he couldn’t help but hear his dad’s voice in his head admonishing him for leaving Ford to navigate all the tasks that went into cleaning a room. “I mean, that’s a lot to do with your arm like that.”

“My arm doesn’t hurt as much anymore and I’ve figured out how to work around it most of the time.”

Stan huffed in frustration. Why was Ford choosing to be stubborn about this? “Shermie, do you think we should be letting him-”

His older brother waved off his concern as he looked nervously out the window. “You guys work it out. My group is here. My own personal hell,” he muttered the last part to himself as if he’d forgotten for a moment that there were other people in the room.

“Why?” Stan and Ford asked in unison as they ran to look out the window. Two school buses had pulled up outside. The doors opened to let out crowds of half-asleep teenagers.

“Someone at the high school thought a four-mile hike was a good field trip for a bunch of sophomores,” their older brother stated bitterly.

“They look like zombies,” Ford commented. With their eyes half-closed as they stumbled off of the bus, Stan had to agree with Ford’s assessment.

He laughed, his earlier worries momentarily forgotten. “Those suckers have to go hiking on a Saturday. I would’ve just pretended to be sick and stayed in bed all day. What kind of idiot would go on a nature walk when they don’t have to?” He heard Shermie clear his throat behind them and turned to see their older brother glaring at him. “I mean, nature walks are a great way to get exercise and experience the wonders of the great outdoors?”

Shermie pulled a cap, with an image of a pine tree on it, off a nearby shelf and lightly smacked Stan in the back of the head with it before placing it on his own head. “Wish me luck, guys.”

“Good luck,” they said as he marched out the door.

“I guess I’m off to do the housekeeping,” Ford said as he turned away from the window.

“Wait a second!” Stan ran over to block his brother’s entrance back into the main part of the bed and breakfast. “You’re really going to try to do all of that yourself? I can help you, bro.”

“It’s just a little cleaning,” Ford insisted. “I can do it myself. You have to be here to keep an eye on the gift shop anyways.”

“Like anyone is going to come in this early.” Stan looked around at the dull and sparse displays. “Or at all.”

A forced chuckle came from Ford, as he tried to slip past Stan. Stan held fast. Their dad had made it very clear that if anything else happened to his twin it would be Stan’s fault. But there was Ford wilting under the way Stan was forcing his own will on him. It made him think of the way their dad refused to listen to any of their requests. What they wanted didn’t matter unless it fit into Pa’s plan. He didn’t want to be like that, stealing Ford’s autonomy from him

“Fine,” Stan sighed as he stepped aside. “Just promise to come get me if you need help.”

Ford smiled at him and nodded. “Don’t worry, Lee. I’ll be fine.”

Once Ford was gone, Stan looked around the shop again. It reminded him of the gift shop at that art museum that they had gone to on the field trip back in New Jersey. It had been a disappointing end to a disappointing trip. Schools always seemed to find a way to make fun things, like field trips, just as boring as the rest of school. That museum gift shop had had layers of dust covering all of the merchandise. It wasn’t a surprise no one bought anything there. And no one was going to buy anything from them either.

He paused to take a closer look at the price tags. He physically shuddered at the low pricing. Had Shermie learned nothing from the way their dad ran the pawn shop? With these prices they would barely break even. Shermie was cheating himself out of profit. With the way he was pricing things and the slow trickle of guests that they had, he couldn’t see Shermie and Lucy keeping the place open through the end of the year.

Stan slowly slumped to the floor, leaning back against the counter. That would mean he and Ford would be shipped off to another relative or sent back to Glass Shard Beach. As much as Stan missed their boat and the salty air he knew going home would only end badly. The only other relative that they would go to would be their mom’s cousin who lived somewhere in Florida. They’d only met her once at their grandmother’s funeral. She had smelled like incense and B.O. and pinched their cheeks too hard, leaving scratches from her claw-like fingernails.

No. He wouldn’t allow any of that to happen to him or Ford. And he definitely wouldn’t allow Shermie and Lucy to lose their business. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he tried to recall every lesson in business Filbrick had ever taught them. Stan opened his eyes again and got to his feet. He would start with fixing the gift shop, then, once Shermie saw what those changes did, he would speak to his brother about a thing called advertising.

 

* * *

 

Stan had finished just before Ford came back from cleaning the guests’ room. He looked around at his handiwork and smiled to himself as he imagined how Shermie would react. He had moved several displays, used some basic crafting skills to make flashier signs, and jacked up the prices as high as those moronic tourists would be willing to pay. As soon as those nature walks were over, they’d be rolling in cash.

“It took longer than I anticipated,” Ford called to Stan as he entered the gift shop. “But that room is… sparkling. Stanley, what did you do?”

He didn’t mind that Ford didn’t seem to understand. Businessmen like him and Shermie did and that’s all that mattered. “I fixed the gift shop for Sherm. You saw what it looked like before. No one was going to buy anything, so I made it more… let’s call it: ‘customer friendly’.”

“I don’t know, Stan,” Ford said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Shermie might not appreciate you changing things so much.”

“Once he sees how much money my changes make him, he’ll love it!” Ford still looked nervous but it wasn’t Ford that he was trying to impress. Shermie was reasonable. Even if he didn’t like it upon first glance, his older brother would hear him out and have to agree.

Ford walked around observing the changes that had been made around the shop. He paused to look at a price tag, then turned to Stan with a deep frown. “You can’t seriously think charging this much for a snow globe is reasonable.”

Before Stan could disagree, the door to the gift shop opened. Lucy entered with her group trailing behind her. She paused to lean on the counter. Her face was tinged green and sweat was beading on her forehead and upper lip.

“Are you okay?” Ford asked as he reached out vaguely with his good hand, obviously unsure of how to help.

Lucy pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded. “I- I’m not feeling too good. Can you guys- can you guys handle this? I have to go lay down. And maybe throw up… a lot.” She ran out without waiting for an answer.

Stan smoothed down his clothes and patted his hair flat as he looked out at the small group of tourists, including their guests, milling about as they looked at the displays. “I’ll go move some product. Sixer, you man the register.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea? Why don’t we just let them decide if they want to buy something and, I don’t know, charge them a reasonable price?”

“That’s no way to run a business, Stanford.” Stan shook his head at his twin. How was it that he was the only one who actually learned something in that pawn shop? He was the dumb one after all. Still, here he was, trying to show his brothers how to run a business. “Watch and learn.”

He approached the nearest customer, a middle-aged woman who wore a camera strap around her neck. Filbrick was a man of few words, but Stan recalled the way that even he spoke to the customers of the pawn shop, prodding and persuading them into buying things. Filbrick had managed to be subtle about it, convincing customers that he didn’t really care about if they bought something but implying that they would be idiots not to make a purchase. Stan knew that he wasn’t quite at that level of manipulation so he would have to use what he did have: his adorableness.

“Hi there, ma’am,” Stan greeted with a toothy grin. “Did you enjoy the nature walk?”

“Oh, hello, young man,” she said with a chuckle. “Aren’t you sweet? Yes, my husband and I had a nice time. I got some beautiful photos to show my quilting group back home.”

“That’s great!” This was his moment. “My _twin_ brother over there is really shy.” He gestured to where Ford stood behind the register. “But he wanted me to tell you that he thinks this hat,” He picked up a straw hat that had a band of floral material around the brim. “Would look real pretty on you.”

“Oh my. That is just adorable.” She waved at Ford who blushed and gave a tentative wave back. “I’ll take it. How much?”

Stan ripped off the old price tag and tripled it. Once he had the cash in hand he walked back over to Ford and handed the money to him to put in the register. “See? Easy.”

Ford sighed as he closed the register drawer. “Look. Even I realized that Shermie was undercharging but you still should have asked permission before making any changes.”

Stan waved off his twin’s concerns. Their older brother wasn’t the type to worry about such things. He remembered a time when he had been five that he had colored Shermie’s favorite “Journey to the Center of the Earth” poster. He’d felt bad after seeing the crestfallen and frustrated expression on his older brother’s face. But then Shermie had taken a deep breath, smiled, and told Stan that it was no big deal. He’d even insisted he liked it better that way. And besides Stan wasn’t ruining anything this time, he was improving it.

“You worry too much,” Stan said as he leaned on the counter. When Shermie returned, their older brother would be thanking him.

 

* * *

 

Shermie was thankful once the hike was over. The high schoolers were driving him up the wall. The teachers that were supposed to be chaperoning did nothing to help. In fact, they seemed to be enjoying his discomfort at dealing with the teens. He’d even taken them through a shortcut on the way back that had cut the trip short just to make the nightmare end sooner.

When they arrived back at the bed and breakfast, he was surprised to see a few cars from the earlier group still there. That made him nervous. He wondered if it could be complaints, but Lucy was a better host than he was. If there were any complaints it would be about him.

The group of teenagers ran ahead into the gift shop, the boys shoving each other, and the girls rolling their eyes at the rough housing. The teachers followed behind talking to each and not really paying attention to their charges. Shermie took a steadying breath and entered after them.

His stomach dropped when he took in the unfamiliar gift shop. There were colorful signs made with crayon and marker propped up and taped to displays. Prices had been crossed out and replaced with numbers that were triple and quadruple the original. Products had been rearranged into oddly placed pyramids and towers. This wasn’t his gift shop; this was some ridiculous facsimile.

“This here is a genuine arrowhead, from right here in Gravity Falls!”

Shermie looked up to see Stan standing on top of the counter, holding up a vaguely triangle shaped rock. The tourists from the earlier group had gathered around and were listening intently. The high school kids and the teachers had only just wandered over and were looking up at him curiously. Meanwhile, Ford was standing in a corner nervously watching the display.

“It was left behind by the native people thousands of years ago,” Stan said as he brought the rock closer to their eyes for a moment before pulling it away again. “No one knows what happened to them. They just… disappeared, mysteriously.” He waggled his fingers at them in a motion that was probably supposed to emphasize the mysterious part. “You can’t find these just anywhere. I got lucky while exploring these parts. My _twin_ brother and me almost got eaten by a bear… No! Two bears! They were twins too. See! Look at him.” He gestured to Ford, whose face went crimson at the attention. “He barely got away with his arm! Let’s start the bidding at… fifty bucks?”

Stan grinned as the tourists waved wads of cash at him, calling out higher and higher prices. Shermie felt the heat rising in his face. He had asked Stan for help, just to watch the gift shop for a few hours and in that time he had turned the place into a circus. He had thought that his younger brother had matured in the time that he had been in Gravity Falls. He had thought that maybe Stan had learned better. Obviously not. Here the boy was still lying and cheating to make some extra cash, even after Shermie had said that he would pay the both of them.

Part of him thought that maybe their dad had been too hard on Stan. Shermie figured that if he treated Stan with a gentler technique than their dad did then there was a chance Stan would rise above all of his ridiculous antics. Had he been wrong? Clearly, the answer was yes. It was possible that it was their dad being so hard on Stan that had kept him somewhat in check.

Shermie could hear the way his dad had always told him that he was too soft. Whenever he brought home an injured bird that he’d found, or cried at the sad movies that his mom liked to put on, there’d been his dad shaking his head at him. _Women don’t like cry-babies and wusses. If you don’t toughen up the world will eat you alive. You want to be taken advantage of like those tourists who come into the pawn shop?_

Shermie always wanted to prove their dad wrong. Being trusting and nice didn’t make him weak. But here was Stan proving every one of Filbrick’s words right. He had trusted the boys to run the shop and they had walked all over him. His fists clenched as he looked around again. He had worked hard to start his own business and Stan thought nothing of it to tear it all down.

“Sold to the man in the green for two-fifty! Here you go, sir.” Stan reached down and traded the “arrowhead” to the man for a wad of bills. He counted it cheerfully as he hopped off the counter. “The next presentation will be in fifteen minutes!”

How long was Stan planning to keep this up? No. Shermie refused to put up with this any longer. “We’re closed!” he suddenly called out. The words had come out on impulse, harsh and direct.

The guests looked at him, a bit shocked, then filed out. As they exited, Stan approached him with that same cheesy smile still on his face. It just stoked the anger Shermie felt rising in his chest.

“What did you do?” Shermie asked as through clenched teeth as he gestured to the store around him.

Stan bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly. Either he didn’t notice Shermie’s barely contained anger or he didn’t care. “I thought the place needed a bit of sprucing up. Do ya like it?”

Frustrated tears pushed from behind Shermie’s eyes. He forced them down. He was a grown man. He refused to cry in front of his kid brothers. They’d never respect him if they saw that. “No. I asked you to watch the store, not turn it into a- a… a circus!”

His younger brother took a step back, a confused frown taking the place of his wide smile. “I didn’t make it a ‘circus’. I actually made this place profitable.” He sounded indignant. Really? Stan dared to sound offended when it was Shermie’s reputation that was on the line?

“Well, I don’t want it to be ‘profitable’ if that means ripping people off!” He wanted to be better than that, better that the manipulative games his dad and the other businesses back in Jersey played with the customers.

Stan’s face screwed up in childish fury. “I wasn’t ripping them off. I was selling them a show! They want me to tell them a story. They want to be tricked!”

“What kind of crap is that?” Who wants to be taken advantage of? Who would want that feeling of betrayal stewing in their gut, building until it turned into an overwhelming nausea? “Is that what you tell yourself to feel better about lying to people and stealing from them. You got some guy to give you two hundred dollars for a rock you probably got from the garden! Two hundred dollars, Stanley! For what? To go buy yourself a new bike or- or to go blow it all in the candy store?”

“That’s not what I was doing! I was-”

“What? Are you going to make up more lies? I’m not some gullible patsy that you can trick!” He didn’t want to be that anymore. Ever since the twins had been born it was all about them in some way. Stan was always messing with his stuff and he would forgive him because Pa was always too hard on him. And Ford was the golden child, smarter than him even while being nearly ten years younger. Hell, the kid had done Shermie’s homework for fun. Then there was Shermie, the sensitive boy who was too awkward and cried at the drop of a hat. He didn’t want to be the one everyone walked all over anymore. “You waltz in here and think you can do whatever you want, Stanley, but you never think about other people. This isn’t your shop! You can’t just-”

“Why can’t you just listen to me, Pa! I was only trying to help!” A tear ran down Stan’s cheek and he quickly scrubbed it away.

Shermie paused at the slip up in Stan’s words. Was he going too far? Then he remembered the way Stan had treated him all morning. The disrespectful attitude, the sarcastic remarks. _No one’s going to respect you if you let them walk all over you._ The voice in his head sounded like an unnerving combination of his dad’s and his own. He struggled to keep the same sternness in his voice as he took a step forward. “It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to help when you screw up everything I’m trying to do here!”


	6. Broken Snowglobes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just wanted to let you know that I am posting chapters five and six together so make sure that you've read chapter five before reading this one. Thanks for reading!

Lucy splashed water on her face then looked up at herself in the mirror. She was so pale that even her lips had lost their color. Her dark brown hair had fallen out of the loose bun she had put it in when she went out earlier that morning. The strands around her face were now dripping water onto the bathroom counter.

She hadn’t been feeling too well when she left for the hike but she had thought that she could make it through. And she almost did. Then on their way back, still ten minutes out, a wave of nausea had hit her. It was the worst timing ever.

A crash from downstairs startled Lucy from her thoughts. Before she could even register her movements she went running out of the room. Her legs carried her to the gift shop and she threw open the door to find Shermie on the ground with Stan standing over him, red faced, chest heaving with exertion. Broken snow globes littered the floor around them. Ford was staring at the scene from the corner with glassy eyes and hands covering his ears.

Her mind was whirring at top speed trying to put together what had happened. The only scenario that made sense was that, for some reason, Stan had pushed Shermie. At that realization, it really hit her just how tall Stanley was for a twelve-year-old.

The boy was grinding his teeth together, hands clenched into fists at his sides. She had to pull him back from wherever he was in his head. Her arms curled protectively around her stomach as she took a deep breath. “Stanley Pines!” she barked. His head jerked up and he blinked several times as if only just realizing where he was. “Take a walk,” she ordered.

He took a shuddering breath and darted outside, letting the door slam against the wall. Ford slowly lowered his hands then ran after him. For some reason, Lucy didn’t think she needed to worry about Stan hurting Ford.

Lucy walked over to her husband, careful of the fallen merchandise. She reached down and helped pull him to his feet. Shermie was trembling. “Sherman,” She put a hand on either side of his face, making him look at her. “Are you okay?”

He licked his lips, eyes darting to the door the boys had left through. “Y-yeah. I think so. My back just… my back just aches a little.” He raised his hands to lightly grip her wrists. “I screwed up, Lucy.”

She could hear the way his voice broke, and wanted nothing more than to put him back together. “What the hell happened?” she asked in a sigh.

“I-I yelled… at him. I was upset at what he did to the gift shop and I yelled at him.”

Lucy’s eyebrows raised involuntarily. She had never heard Shermie yell. He was awkward and quiet. It was his sensitive nature that drew her to him. “You never yell.”

He gently lowered her hands and slid his arms around her in an embrace. “I said things to him. Things my father would say. God, I’m turning into Pa.” He let out a shaky breath and rested his forehead against her shoulder. “It was stupid. It was so stupid to get upset about something like that. What do I care about this stupid gift shop, when I just said those things to Stanley?”

Lucy didn’t know what to say. She swallowed hard and decided to say the one thing she was sure of. “You’re not turning into your father.”

 

* * *

 

Stan ran as hard as he could. His lungs burned in his chest as he went but he refused to slow down. He couldn’t do anything right. He was a screw up and that’s all that he would ever be. He didn’t know why he thought that he could help.

His foot caught on a rock and he went flying forward. He slammed hard into the ground. His nose throbbed and he felt something wet running down his face. He sat up slowly, whimpering in pain.

Stan wanted to laugh at himself. He couldn’t even run away from his problems the right way. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his head against them.

He couldn’t believe that he had attacked Shermie. It wasn’t his intention. He just heard his father’s words coming out of Shermie’s mouth and he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take being called a screw up. He already knew that he was one, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear it out loud. Especially, coming from Shermie. His brothers were supposed to be the people who didn’t say those things. They were supposed to be the people he could run to.

Where would he go now? Shermie probably hated him. And Lucy… the way she had looked at him. She probably thought he was some kind of monster. Those kids at school were right to stay away from him.

“Stanley? Lee, where are you?”

He ignored Ford’s voice, hoping his twin would just go back home. The footsteps got closer and closer until, “Stan! I’ve been looking- Oh my god, your nose is bleeding.” Ford rushed over, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and kneeled in front of him.

“So what?” he mumbled as Ford dabbed at his face. “It’s not like it matters.”

“Of course it matters,” his twin said matter-of-factly. “You’re hurt.”

Ford grabbed one of Stan’s hands and raised it to hold the handkerchief at his nose. Then he set about pulling twigs and leaves from Stan’s hair and brushing dirt from his clothes.

No. Ford shouldn’t be doing this for him. He didn’t deserve it. All he did was drag everyone down and cause them pain. His eyes were drawn to Ford’s cast. That was his fault. It was all his fault.

_“Stop trying to help, Stanley! You just screw everything up.”_ That was what his dad had said the final day he was allowed to help in the pawn shop. He had dropped an antique tea set and cost them a few hundred dollars.

“Stop it,” Stan grit out pushing Ford’s hand away. Ford shouldn’t be wasting his time with him. “Just go home, Sixer.”

“No,” Ford replied stubbornly. “You need me, so I’m going to be here for you.”

“Stop!” he tried again, when Ford was examining a tear near the knee of his jeans. This wasn’t okay. Why did Ford care about him? He didn’t want to be cared about. He didn’t deserve it. “I said to stop it!” He dropped the handkerchief and shoved his twin away from him.

Ford toppled over, landing on his broken arm. He grunted at the impact and let out a hiss of pain. Stan’s heart leapt into his throat. A sob caught there with it, making him feel like he was choking. He hurt Ford. He hurt the person that he had promised his dad and himself that he would protect. Was hurting people all he was good for?

Ford got back up onto his knees and looked at him with an unreadable expression. “Stanley,” he stated calmly. “I know you didn’t mean that. And… and I don’t think Shermie meant the things that he said. He was just upset.”

“No,” Stan managed to croak out. “He was right. And… and Pa is right too. I just fuck everything up. I’m worthless and- and you all shouldn’t have to live with me messing up your lives.”

“Don’t say that!” Ford snapped. “Don’t you ever say that! I want you around, Lee, and Shermie and Lucy want you around. And Lizzie wants you around. She’s our best friend. She chose to be friends with you because you’re so damn great. You may mess up sometimes, but you don’t mess up our lives. All of us screw up, Stanley. You didn’t stop wanting me around when I spilt grape juice on your blanky.”

Stan couldn’t help the wet laugh that came out at the memory of crying over his green blanky stained purple. “We were six, ya nerd.”

Ford smiled at him, too understanding. “So, if we’d been older, you would have said ‘so long, Stanford, you ruined my blanky, we can’t be brothers anymore’?”

“No. But there’s a big difference between staining an old blanket and me taking over Shermie’s store and then pushing him into a display.”

Ford winced at the description of his actions and Stan couldn’t blame him. It was pretty bad. “Okay, well, I think apologizing would go a long way with Shermie. He’s an understanding guy.”

Stan’s chest tightened at the thought of facing his older brother. He wasn’t sure Ford was seeing everything he was. “But I made him yell. Shermie doesn’t yell, not at his little brothers. I’ve never seen him that angry before.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ford stated as if it were a fact.

He wanted to argue, tell his twin that this wasn’t Ford’s problem to deal with. But he actually did want Ford with him. Maybe seeing the good twin at his side would ease Shermie’s wrath. Or at least Stan would have a witness should things go south. “I think I’d like that,” he said finally. “Thanks, Sixer.”

 

* * *

 

Everything was a mess. As they made their way back home, Ford wondered if there was any way to fix the damage that had been done. Shermie had every right to be upset with Stan for making all of those changes without asking, but the things he had said… It was like being back in Glass Shard Beach with their dad. Ford hadn’t liked it all.

As much as he loved their dad, he was their dad after all, he hated the way he treated Stan. Most of the time Stan didn’t deserve the harsh treatment or demeaning remarks. Those words always left Stan… not himself. Ford didn’t like when Stan wasn’t himself.

The bed and breakfast was nearly in sight when Ford paused, a shiver running down his spine. He had the distinct feeling that someone was watching them. He turned to see Stan still dragging his feet behind him.

“Why’d you stop?” Stan asked, looking around for whatever had grabbed Ford’s attention.

Ford shook his head. “I don’t know. I thought… It feels like we’re being watched.”

“Is this really the time to be trying to freak me out?” Stan asked with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not messing around,” Ford hissed. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

Stan seemed to realize that this wasn’t a badly timed joke. He jogged over to Ford and stood close enough that their shoulders bumped. “You think it’s one of those monsters Lizzie told us about?”

Could it be? Lizzie had told them about that thing, the Hide Behind. He listened hard for the soft chattering sound that she said accompanied the creature… Nothing. He let out a slow breath. That didn’t mean it couldn’t be something else, something that she hadn’t told them about yet, or possibly something that she didn’t even know about.

A rustling came from nearby and Ford whipped around to glare at the bushes. Stan mimicked the movement, only a split second behind him. “We need a plan,” he muttered to himself.

“I got a plan,” Stan told him with a soft nudge. “Whatever it is, we punch it… in the face. Yeah. Definitely, in the face. Or the balls. I’m not picky.”

Ford was about to turn to him and tell him that that wasn’t a real plan when Stan was suddenly no longer beside him. He looked around for him and at the same moment he heard his twin let out a strangled yelp. What he saw left Ford paralyzed with confusion and… fear? Yeah, this was fear.

Several tiny men wearing little, red hats had grabbed Stan by the ankles and were dragging him away.

“Get off!” Stan cried out as he kicked at his kidnappers.

Ford ran forward and kicked one of them hard enough to send it flying. “Let go of my brother!”

One of them let go of Stan and turned to Ford, looking extremely offended. “Hey! It’s an honor to be chosen as an offering to our queen! Besides there’s two of you. One of you missing shouldn’t cause too much trouble. Right?” Then the… whatever it was, shrugged and laughed like he had just made a clever joke.

Ford clenched his fist by his side. He was getting really tired of people implying that Stan wasn’t important, or good enough, or somehow worth less than he was. “Shut up!” he yelled as he kicked the small creature. That one also flew back with a squeak.

“That’s right!” Stan shouted jubilantly. “My brother will kick all of your asses, you creeps!”

Ford blushed at the faith Stan was putting in him. His twin really thought that he was strong enough to save him. He wanted to prove that Stan was right to trust him. He opened his mouth to tell his brother not to worry, that he would kick every one of these things until they went back to whatever hell they crawled out of, but he was cut off by a sharp pain going through his leg. He cried out as he kicked at whatever was clinging to his ankle.

One of the small creatures tumbled from his leg. “We’re gnomes!” it corrected as it wiped Ford’s blood from its mouth. “Let’s just take ‘em both. Two gifts for our queen!”

“What!?” Stan and Ford said in unison, with identically horrified voices.

More gnomes leapt out from the bushes and before Ford could react, his feet were pulled out from under him. His face hit the forest floor and he ended up with a mouthful of leaves and twigs. Yeah. He wasn’t going to be saving anybody.

Stan shouted insults as he fought harder against the increasing number of gnomes that were grabbing at their limbs. Ford gritted his teeth as he fought as best as he could with his arm still in a cast. There wasn’t much he could do with them keeping hold of his legs as they dragged him backwards. _~~They dragged him backwards, with a hand secured over his mouth to keep him from crying out for help. He was thrown to the floor of the boys’ bathroom. They surrounded him…~~ NO!_

Ford struggled harder, a new, different kind of panic driving him. He needed to get away. He couldn’t let them hurt him. He didn’t want to be hurt again.

 

* * *

 

Shermie agreed to go out and look for the boys after he and Lucy had cleaned up most of the gift shop. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid of the imminent confrontation that was looming. It would be uncomfortable and messy, discussing all the feelings that had been dug out and left in the open.

He raked his hands through his hair as he passed the tree line and made his way deeper into the forest. Why did he have to go and say the things that he’d said? He’d been angry, but it all seemed petty and such a waste of energy now, after the fact. Maybe the words were so easy to say because he’d heard them so many times come from his dad’s lips. Even before Stan was old enough to know what they meant, there’d been their Pa saying them to the younger of the twins, every time he did something Filbrick didn’t approve of. Shermie had thought he was better than that, but he wasn’t. He feared what he’d be like as a father, if this was the kind of brother he was.

“Stanley!” he called out. “Stanford!” He waited for a reply for a moment, but none came. How far would they have gone? Maybe they headed for their friend’s house. They had gotten pretty close with Lizzie Corduroy.

He walked a bit further before trying again. “Stanley! Stanford!” He waited again, starting to become nervous at where they had gone. Had he been so harsh that they decided to run away? If anything happened to them his father would kill him. Shermie wouldn’t put it past Filbrick to cross the country just to tell him how disappointed he was and then murder him. “Lee! Ford! Come on, guys! I just want to talk!”

He paused when his foot hit something light and made a clatter. He automatically knelt down to examine whatever it was and felt his heart drop into his stomach. It was Ford’s new glasses. Shermie picked them up and looked them over. The left lens had a crack in it. Ford would never go somewhere without his glasses. His vision was terrible without them. Wherever his brothers were, they didn’t go voluntarily.

Shermie fought to keep his breathing steady. Panicking wouldn’t help them. He had two options: he could go back home and call the police to report his brothers missing. But by the time they got people out there looking for Stan and Ford, who knew what could happen to them. Or Shermie could keep going on his own.

He looked down at the glasses in his hands. A strand of Ford’s hair was still caught in the hinge of one of the arms. Shermie folded them and carefully placed them in his pocket. He spotted a pathway of disrupted dirt and bushes. He would follow it and find his brothers. He was going to bring them home.

 

* * *

 

“You doing okay there, Sixer?” Stan hissed in a low whisper to Ford. Both twins were tied up back to back in a small clearing that seemed to be hidden in a part of the forest not many frequented. There was little chance anyone was going to come for them. They would have to get out of this themselves. Stan knew he would have to depend on Ford if they were going to escape but the way he could feel Ford’s breaths coming in quick and shallow was not encouraging.

“Not really,” Ford whispered back tightly. “My arm hurts, my leg burns from that gnome biting me, and I can’t see anything. So, I’d be really grateful if you had another plan besides ‘punch them in the face or balls’.”

“Don’t worry, bro bro,” Stan said with a forced lightness. “I’m working on something. We’ll be out of this in no time.” One of them had to stay positive. If he could keep the both of them from panicking then they could get out of this. They were Pines after all.

Stan stopped talking when he saw the gnomes coming back into view. Several of the gnomes brought out a cauldron that was twice their height and placed it over a firepit. They cheered loudly as another one threw a lit torch into the pit and the wood lit up with a whoosh.

“For the queen!” they all chanted in unison. “For the queen! Our queen shall reign forever!”

“What is going on?” Ford asked as he gripped at the hem of Stan’s shirt. “What just happened?”

The gnomes started bringing out buckets of water and hopping up onto each other’s shoulder to dump them into the cauldron. Stan swallowed hard. He doubted that they were just planning to make a delicious vegetable soup. “Nothing,” he said, voice rising several octaves as one of the gnomes grinned at him, hopping down with a now empty bucket in hand. “Nothing, Ford. Don’t worry.”

“Stanley,” Ford said. He leaned his head back to rest against Stan’s. His voice was so suddenly calm that it was unnerving Stanley. “If you get the chance, I want you to run. You can get back to the B&B and get help. I’ll just slow you down.”

“No way,” Stan hissed. “I am not leaving without you. I promised Pa that I would take care of you. That’s why you have me.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

That statement stung a bit. He knew Ford didn’t mean it that way but it still made him think of his dad spitting the word at him after he messed up yet again. He let out a humorless laugh. “Well, I am the dumb twin. You know me. I never listen. So, yeah, I’m not going to start now. I’m not leaving you.”

He could hear Ford let out a slow breath. It took a couple of moments for Ford to reply. During that time Stan watched as the gnomes emptied bucket after bucket of water into the cauldron. The fire was heating it up, making the water sizzle as it hit the sides.

“I am not going to argue with you anymore,” Ford said sternly.

“Good.” Stan nodded to himself, head bumping back against his twin’s. They agreed then. Stan wasn’t good for anything more than being there for Ford, just as he’d always known and been told by their father.

“Let me finish, you knucklehead. I’m not going to argue with you anymore, so I am going to tell you the facts right now, Stanley Pines. You are not the dumb twin, you are so much more than what dad or Shermie have told you that you are, you are not a screw up, and if you get the chance to escape you are going to do it, because if we get killed by fucking gnomes, I will kick your ass once we are in the afterlife. Do you understand?”

Stan was shocked into silence for a moment. The swears somehow sounded worse coming from Stanford. He didn’t think he’d ever heard him use anything stronger than “damn” or “hell”. But if Ford’s aim had been to startle him into agreement, it had worked. “Yeah- I mean, yes, I understand.”

“Okay then.” Ford nodded, brushing the back of his head against Stan’s. “Now, what are the gnomes doing, Lee? I want the truth.”

The gnomes had worked quickly, the cauldron was filled and the water was beginning to bubble up. He remembered just the previous year, he’d had an accident with boiling pasta water hitting the side of his arm. He imagined that pain but all over his body and shuddered at the thought. “They put a giant pot of water over a fire. I’m assuming…that means they are going to boil us alive for their ‘queen’.”

“That… that’s not good.”

“Nope.”

A gnome suddenly came running out of the trees and paused, clearing his throat. All of the other gnomes stopped and turned their attention to him. Everything was eerily silent, except for the roar of the fire and bubbling of the cauldron.

“Attention, gnomes of Gravity Falls!” He paused dramatically, gaze running over the crowd and briefly to Stan and Ford. “The queen is coming!” All the gnomes burst into applause and excited shouts.

Stan held his breath waiting for whatever horrifying creature their queen was. He imagined a female gnome with fangs, wearing a giant gold crown, being brought in on a throne made of human bones. Whatever she looked like he knew that she ate twelve-year-old boys, so he wasn’t exactly thrilled about meeting her.

Two more gnomes came scurrying out of the trees, unrolling a golden carpet as they ran into the clearing. Then a human woman came walking down the carpet into the clearing. She appeared to be in her thirties. Stan had to admit that she had strikingly beautiful features, a heart shaped face and delicate pointed nose. Her bright green eyes were something no one could miss, along with her waist length, blonde hair. But it was the silver tiara that sat on top of her head that Stan’s eyes were drawn to. She was their queen. Was this angelic looking woman a cannibal?

“Our queen!” the gnomes cheered.

One of the gnomes who had been involved in the kidnapping stepped forward. He bowed to her and she nodded in acknowledgment. “Queen Joyce, we have brought you an offering of two young children. We will be preparing them so they may satisfy your hunger.”

A chill ran down Stan’s spine. He squirmed, unable to sit still when they were talking about eating him and Ford. Joyce’s gaze shifted to him and he stopped moving. This was it. She was probably going to order them to be thrown into the cauldron. If they were untied first, he may be able to grab Ford and split. This time he would be prepared to take on the gnomes, he could kick them out of the way. But he didn’t know if Joyce would be quick enough to grab them. Stan had boxing training on his side, though. He could take her. He was sure of it.

Joyce rolled her eyes and turned back to the gnome before her. “I told you guys to stop bringing me people to eat. I said that if you wanted to bring me an offering cheesecake would do. Now, I really have to get home. I told my kids I’d take them to the movies.” With that she stalked off as she removed the tiara. She paused for a moment to turn back to Stan and Ford. “Sorry about them,” she said before continuing away from the clearing.

Stan was so blown away by the turn of events, a loud “Ha!” burst from his lips. “You heard her!” he said triumphantly. “She doesn’t want us. So untie us!”

Most of the gnomes grumbled and complained as they threw venomous glares at the twins. Some wailed as they cried “The queen is unhappy! Oh, what a disaster!” But it was the gnome that Joyce had spoken directly to that came over to speak with Stan and Ford. He adjusted his little red hat as he stopped in front of them. Stan smirked at the way the gnome fumed, his unkempt beard twitching as he spluttered angrily.

“You going to untie us, Grumpy?” Stan asked impatiently.

“This is your fault!” the gnome spat. “She rejected the offering, not her subjects.”

The rest of the gnomes roared in agreement. One of them shouted, “Punish the offering!”

Ford was shifting behind Stan, tugging forcefully at their bonds. It did nothing to loosen the ropes. In fact, all it did was increase Stan’s already building panic.

“But won’t it just anger her more if you hurt us?” Ford attempted to reason. “I mean, she has kids herself. It would only upset her if she saw that you hurt other children.”

Good ol’ Ford and his logic. Stan watched the thoughtful expressions of the gnomes. They couldn’t argue with that. They would have to let Stan and Ford go.

The gnome then shrugged. “What the queen doesn’t know, won’t hurt her. Take them to the cliff!”

 

* * *

 

Shermie was beginning to worry that the tracks would not lead him to his younger brothers. He’d been following it for over half an hour now and the voice in the back of his head telling him to go back and call the police or rangers or someone professionally trained to find missing children was growing louder and more convincing. Then he heard it. Two familiar voices shouting nearby. He ran toward it and soon enough he could make out the words.

“Get back, you scummy little dwarves!” That was definitely Stan’s voice. “I have no problem taking as many of you as I can off this cliff with me!”

Shermie burst through the trees just as an unfamiliar voice shouted. “We’re gnomes! How many times do I have to say it?!”

He took in the sight of Stan and Ford being held at the edge of a cliff, by a horde of angry, tiny, men in red hats. This had to be a dream. How was this real?

“I know that you’re still kind of pissed at me,” Stan said breaking Shermie from his shock. “But do you think you could help us out here?” He was glancing between his older brother and the… what had they called themselves… gnomes?

“Uh… Yeah… Sure. I’ll just…” He trailed off as he reached down and grabbed a long, broken branch near his foot. How was he going to save his brothers? He had no idea things like gnomes existed, much less how to keep them from throwing his brothers off of a cliff.

“Get him!” one of the gnomes suddenly shouted. Simultaneously, all of the small creatures turned and a sea of pointy, red hats were stampeding towards Shermie.

He only had seconds to decide what to do. Without thinking too hard about it, he reached into his pocket, whipped out his lighter and set the branch ablaze. The gnomes all halted about a foot from him. He testingly waved the branch toward them and they all scurried back further.

“Alright!” Shermie began. He did his best to sound like Filbrick, as sick as that made him feel. “You will leave and never bother our family again or I will light up this whole forest like the fourth of July!”

“You wouldn’t do that!” one of the gnomes called out, though he didn’t dare come any closer to Shermie. “That- that’s insane!”

They were trying to call his bluff but they all seemed rather hesitant. The fire consuming the branch was starting to die. Shermie swallowed hard and waved the branch at them again. “I think its best for all of you to just assume that that is exactly what I am,” he warned. The Filbrick-ness in his voice was dying as fast as the flame was. His nerves were getting the best of him. Stan and Ford were still standing at the edge of the cliff. Stan was watching the whole scene as he chewed on his lip anxiously. Ford’s eyes were unfocused, probably unable to see much more than blurry shapes, but he was trembling next to his twin.

After a moment of the gnomes muttering to each other, where Shermie was seriously worried that the gnomes would decide he was lying, the small creatures nodded at each other. Then the one who had tried to call out Shermie spoke up again. “Fine. But can you tell us where we can get a cheesecake?”

“No!” Shermie blurted out. Why the hell were they asking about cheesecake?

The gnomes grumbled to each other, but then they were scurrying off into the woods. Shermie stood stock still, holding the branch and quickly diminishing fire aloft. He waited until the sounds of their feet had completely faded. It took much too long, Shermie’s arms had begun to tremble when he was finally certain it was safe.

He dropped the branch, fire completely died out now, and ran forward. He grabbed Stan and Ford by the front of their shirts and pulled them back away from the cliff. It wasn’t until they were near the trees that he pulled out his pocket knife to cut the ropes from around their wrists. As soon as they were free, both of them wrapped their arms around his torso and he knelt down to allow them to bury their faces in each of his shoulders.

Shermie clung to them. He could still see them standing at the edge of the cliff. His stomach lurched when he imagined what would have happened if he had failed. The image of them falling from the cliff made him hold them tighter against his chest. The last words he would’ve said to Stan would have been him berating his younger brother. All those words, stolen from their father.

Shermie instinctively pressed a kiss to the tops of their heads. “I am so sorry,” he told them. “I am so so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Ford asked as he pulled away to squint at his older brother. “You saved us.”

Shermie kept one arm firmly around Stan but used the other to pulled Ford’s glasses from his pocket and hand them to him. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier. That wasn’t fair to you, Stanley.”

Stan pulled away and sniffed as he wiped at his eyes. He shrugged nonchalantly. “Nah, I deserved it. I screwed up your gift shop.”

“No, you didn’t.” He put his hands on his younger brother’s shoulders. How was he supposed to fix this? “You didn’t deserve it and you didn’t screw anything up. I overreacted and said things I shouldn’t have said, things that were not true. _I_ screwed up, Stan. Me.” He pressed a hand to the middle of his own chest for emphasis. “Not you.”

Stan’s eyes had gone wide but he was looking at Shermie warily. “R-really? You really mean that? I- I shoved you. Aren’t you still mad about that?”

“That… wasn’t good.” Shermie struggled to know how to respond. He didn’t want to tell Stan that it was okay but it wasn’t something they needed to deal with right then either. “But we can address that tomorrow. Right now, all you need to know is that I’m sorry, and I love you.”

Stan was hugging him again, hands grasping the back of his shirt tightly. He hugged him back just as tight. He could feel a damp spot forming where Stan’s face was pressed against his shirt and his own tears stung his eyes. Ford’s hand rested on his free shoulder and Shermie looked up to see that he was smiling.

“I’m going to do better, from now on,” Shermie said with as much conviction as he could muster. Maybe, if he could get better at being a big brother, they’d be okay. All he wanted was for them to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wanted to let you all know that we are nearing the end of the first part of this story. Chapter 9 will be the last one in the first part (the recovery) and chapter 10 will mark the start of part 2 which includes a time jump. (Part 2 will also be where Bill eventually comes in.) Just wanted to let everyone know the plan for the story! Thanks again for reading!


	7. Jellybeans & Toffee Peanuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford is getting his cast off and Stan goes to school by himself.

Ford sat in the car beside Stan not really listening to him talk about his plan to get back at the gnomes for trying to throw them off a cliff. Shermie seemed caught between trying to pay attention to the road and imploring Stan to stay away from the murderous creatures in the woods. It would be entertaining if Ford wasn’t distracted by the thought that today was the day he was getting his cast off. The getting it removed wasn’t the scary part for him. It was the inquiries he was going to get about his six-fingered hands. Every doctor he’d ever seen always asked about his hands. They spotted the six fingers and started asking him and his parents a million questions. And once they found out he was twin, he could forget whatever reason they’d actually gone there for because it suddenly became a research interview.

“Sixer!”

“What?”

Stan smiled at him and reached over to ruffle his hair. “I was asking ya a question. Stink bombs: yes or no? I figure with your science knowledge and my kicking ass skills we can get our revenge on those little freaks!”

Ford flinched at the word choice. “Can you not…” He sighed. No. Stan hadn’t meant it like that. Stan wasn’t like those other boys. “I’d rather not provoke the gnomes when they are obviously capable of kidnapping and murder, Stanley.”

“Exactly.” Shermie said from the front seat as he looked at them in the rearview mirror. “I already convinced them not to mess with us. I don’t want to have to make good on my threat to burn down the forest. I’m pretty sure that would get me some pretty hefty prison time. And I have a wife and two little brothers to take care of.”

Stan sat back in his seat and nodded pensively. “You’re right. Plus, Smokey the bear would be pretty ashamed of you. No one wants that on their conscience.”

“Don’t bring Smokey the bear into this, Stan,” Shermie said as he fought back a smile.

Stan leaned forward on the back of the driver’s seat so that he was right next to his older brother’s ear. “Only you can prevent forest fires, Sherman!” he shouted, making Shermie flinch away and swerve the car slightly.

Ford tried to smile and enjoy the comradery of his brothers but he was going to be spending the next several hours away from his twin. The last time he was away from Stan… _ ~~A kick landed in his gut, knocking the wind out of him. He tried to turn away or use his arms to block but two of the boys were holding him down.~~_ _No. Stop thinking about it! Just stop!_ He didn’t want to be this dependent. It wasn’t like this before. Before the incident he could handle going to the doctor while Stan was at school, and just ignore or even shoot back passive aggressive remarks at the doctor if they asked too many invasive questions about his fingers. But bad things happened when Stan wasn’t there and they could happen again.

He looked over at his twin. Stan was still leaning on the back of Shermie’s seat, now talking about something to do with Lizzie. Part of Ford hated that he needed Stan to feel safe. Hadn’t it been enough to be stuck together since conception? Would he need him for the rest of his life too? The very thought made him feel queasy. As much as he loved Stan, he craved the feeling of independence, of not just being the other half of a pair.

He had to get through today. He had to, if he wanted to prove to himself that he could be away from Stan without anything bad happening. The anxiety would be bad but the thought of never doing anything on his own again was worse. He could do this.

Shermie parked to let Stan out at school. The sound of kids talking and laughing as they walked through the parking lot and up the front lawn to the school sounded cacophonous even though it came in muffled through the windows. He would still rather be out there with Stan than be headed to the doctor without him.

It was only a few hours, Ford tried to tell himself. _I don’t need Stan. ~~Yes, you do.~~_ Nothing bad would happen.

Stan opened the door. He grabbed his backpack as he moved to get out, but then he turned back. Ford wondered what he was doing. The hesitation was putting Ford on edge. Then he pulled Ford into a hug. It was awkward the way they both had to lean to participate but it was grounding. “I will be home right after school, bro bro.”

With a deep breath Ford nodded and Stan released him. Stan moved to get out again but then turned back one more time. “High six?” he asked holding his hand up. His smile was strained as he asked and it was oddly comforting to see that Stan was just as anxious as he was.

A genuine smile graced Ford’s face. He held up his own hand and they slapped them together. “See you at home, Lee,” he said as Stan hopped out. His twin waved and closed the door.

“You doing okay there, Ford?” Shermie asked as he pulled back out of the school parking lot, carefully driving around the middle schoolers.

Ford took a deep measured breath that shuddered as he exhaled. His stomach felt all twisted up and his heart was thumping so hard he thought it might burst out of his chest. He placed his good hand over his cast and held it close to his torso. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

 

* * *

 

The whole morning all Stan could think about was Ford. He tried not to make a big deal about the whole thing, but he was kind of freaked out about his twin being so far away from him for so long. He tried to be reassured by the fact that Shermie would be there, but it didn’t do much to ease his worries. It felt like he had forgotten something important. Like he didn’t have a part of himself there.

On the walk to lunch, Lizzie bumped shoulders with him to get his attention. “It’s a bummer that Ford is missing out on pizza day,” she commented. “We only get it once a month.”

“Yeah, sure,” Stan replied as they stopped in front of his locker. He moved to put his books away. All he could think about were those doctors at the hospital after Ford was hurt. There was that one who couldn’t stop talking about Ford’s hands. Finally, their Pa had to threaten a lawsuit to get the doctor back on track. Sure, Shermie could take down gnomes but would he able get a doctor to stop focusing on Ford fingers long enough to get the cast off.

Suddenly, Stan was pulled from his reverie by a finger poking his cheek. “Stanley?”

“What?” He turned to Lizzie, who was leaning against the locker next to his.

“You’ve been staring into your locker for, like, a solid thirty seconds. You okay?” she asked. “Thinking about Stanford?”

“Yeah. I- I worry about him more now.” He heaved a sigh as he closed his locker. How much did he want to tell her? He’d already confided in her so much by telling her about what happened back in Glass Shard Beach. It had felt right to let it all tumble out and present it to her so that she could understand. He didn’t see a reason to stop now. “Things feel more complicated now. Before, Stanford and I were a team. It was us against the world. But now I feel like its just me protecting Ford from everything else.” He paused frowning at his own words. That wasn’t exactly right. It wasn’t that he thought Ford was weak. It was so much more complicated than that. No. It was that everyone else was expecting him to protect Ford from the rest of the world. Lizzie probably thought he sounded like a jerk now, like he thought Ford was a burden. He made a frustrated noise and tried to correct himself. “I didn’t mean it like that though. It’s just that I feel all this pressure and- That’s not it either. I don’t know. Just ignore me.” He let his head fall against his locker with a thump. Nothing was coming out right. Ford was the one who was good at explaining things. A memory of sitting in their old room while Ford tried to help him with fractions flashed through his mind. It was a good memory. A memory from _before_.

“Something bad happened to him and you don’t want it to happen again. I get it,” Lizzie said as she straightened and put a hand on Stan’s shoulder. She said it so simply and it actually made the tight band of anxiety around his chest loosen. “It’s not wrong to be scared for your brother,” she continued. “But you can’t always be there for him.”

It was like a record scratched. Her statement lit a fire of opposition inside of Stan. He pushed her hand away and took a step back. “Sure, I can! It was me being away from him that got him hurt. I’m not making that mistake again.” But he couldn’t help but see the facts in front of him. She was right. He wasn’t with Ford right then. His twin was on the other side of town. It was the farthest they’d been from each other since the incident. A part of himself drifting too far to pull it back and put it where it belonged: right beside him.

“I wasn’t meaning it like that.” Lizzie took a deep breath and tugged at one of her braided pigtails. Stan was starting to realize that she did that when she was nervous or frustrated. “What I’m trying to say is that, it’s not _only_ you looking out for Ford. Your older brother is there with him. You guys have Lucy… and me too. Okay?”

Stan swallowed hard as he nodded. His stomach felt all weird and fluttery at the way she stated that she would be there for him and Ford. He was grateful for her words, pointing out the support system he could rely on, but there was something so special about _her_ support. Maybe he was just relieved that there were more people than just him watching out for Ford?

Lizzie pulled him into a hug. He automatically reciprocated it wrapping his arms around her too. It was dizzying to be so close to her. Her hair smelled like one of those too-sweet-scented kids’ shampoos. Some instinctual part of his brain never wanted to let go, but when she pulled away a moment later, he released her. His face warmed and he was afraid of her seeing him blushing. She didn’t say anything, so either it wasn’t as bad as he thought or she decided to be merciful and not tease him about it.

She cleared her throat as she looked away from him. “Lunch then?” she suggested.

He nodded in response, not trusting his voice, and they headed for the cafeteria.

It was when they got to the doors that Stan felt something crash into him from behind. He spun around, ready to snap at whoever had hit him. There was a scrawny boy with jet black hair that was slicked back looking up at him from the ground.

“Y-you’re Stanley Pines,” the other boy stuttered out, face going pale. “I am so sorry, Mr. Pines, sir.” He scrambled to his feet glancing behind him repeatedly.

There was an unpleasant squirming in his stomach at being called “Mr. Pines”. He’d only ever heard his father called that. Not having the energy for the fear and apologies, Stan waved it off. “It’s fine. Just watch where you’re going next time. And don’t call me Mr. Pines. It’s weird.”

“Thank you, Mister- uh Stanley.” The kid glanced behind him again, then looked around anxiously.

Stan wasn’t sure that he wanted to know what was up with the kid but he also wasn’t sure if he should just walk away. He looked to Lizzie who was frowning deeply at the kid. It was clear that she didn’t like this guy. Stan wondered what it was that he wasn’t privy to that caused her to have such a strong reaction to the kid.

Lizzie turned to address the boy and Stan realized he wouldn’t have to wait long. “What kind of trouble did you get yourself into this time, Chris?”

“First of all, its Christopher now, not ‘Chris’. I’ve told you before. Second, its not my fault this time. Xavier was saying that his dad gets out of prison next month and that they’re going to go to Disneyland during Christmas. I said ‘If he stays out of prison that long’. It just slipped out and honestly the recidivism rates in this country are nothing to sneeze at.” At a pointed glare from Lizzie he rubbed the back of his neck and moved on. “Anyways, now he wants to rip off my arm and beat me with it.”

Stan couldn’t help but let out a low whistle. That was a pretty harsh thing to say to a person. He wasn’t sure if he would have the restraint to not beat the kid with his own dismembered limb if he said something like that to him. “And I thought I had a problem with not knowing when to keep my mouth shut.”

“You can help me though,” Chris said as he turned to Stan, eyes lighting up. “You’re the one who murdered a kid and burned his house down for messing with your brother, right?”

“When did arson get added to this story?” He scrubbed his hands over his face with a frustrated sigh. At first, he thought the rumors were funny but he didn’t like that people were adding additional crimes to the tale. It made him feel like the whole thing was spiraling beyond his control.

Chris ignored Stan’s question and took a step closer to him. “You have to help me. Xavier would never mess with you. He’s dumb but he doesn’t have a death wish.”

Stan wasn’t crazy about the idea of becoming responsible for protecting more kids than just his brother. He wasn’t running a charity of bully protection. Plus, there was the danger of getting on the bad side of another student. He and Ford had been fortunate to stay relatively neutral so far.

“Look, Chris-”

“Christopher.”

“Chris, I need to stay out of trouble. I don’t think I should be getting involved in whatever issues you have with this Xavier kid.” Stan felt someone squeeze his hand and he looked up expecting to see Ford for a moment, but it was Lizzie who was there. She nodded at him in approval and he felt a swell of pride.

Chris deflated at his reply but with someone at the end of the hall shouting, “Chris!” he jumped and darted behind Stan. A large kid, taller than Crampelter, came storming down the hall. Two other boys, about half his size, were trailing behind him. Kids came from down other corridors to see what was going on. Some even poked their heads out of the cafeteria.

“You little bastard!” Xavier roared. “I’m gonna rip off your leg and shove it up your ass!”

Stan didn’t see much choice now. Even though Chris had gotten himself into this mess, Stan couldn’t just stand by and let him get his ass kicked. Chris was about a third of Xavier’s size.

But he didn’t want to disappoint Lizzie. He glanced at Lizzie out of the corner of his eye and a wave of relief washed over him when he saw that she stepped in front of Chris to join him, taking a protective stance.

“Out of the way!” Xavier demanded as he stopped in front of them.

Stan couldn’t get in trouble. That meant he had to talk his way out of this. Ford was usually the one good for that. His twin’s logical sense was what had gotten them out of trouble more than once. Stan knew that he himself wasn’t any good at deescalating.

He would have to try. The words came out without him thinking too hard about them. “Look, what Chris said was fucked up, but he was just trying to help you not get your hopes up about that Disney trip, man.” Oh, that wasn’t right. That was… that was terrible.

“Stop talking,” Lizzie suddenly hissed.

His mouth snapped shut. Xavier’s face had gone a deep shade of red, almost purple. His fists were raised, clenched so tightly, his arms were trembling. Stan thought over his statement and cringed at his own choice of words. They weren’t any better than Chris’s.

Lizzie took a step forward. “Xavier, your dad and your family are your business. It was wrong of Chris to say anything about what might happen with your dad. Its wasn’t his place to voice his opinion. But violence isn’t going fix any of this.”

There was beat of silence. Chris peeked out from behind them and Xavier growled at him. “Hitting him will sure make me feel better, though.”

Stan clenched his fists by his side. How did he get pulled into this? All he wanted was to steer clear of any trouble for Ford’s sake. Was that too much to ask?

Suddenly, the much larger boy was stopped by one of his friends saying something to him in a hushed voice. Xavier’s eyes darted over to Stan as his friend spoke. His lips pursed as if he had eaten something sour. When his friend finished, he nodded at Stan. “You the kid who murdered someone and burned his house down; then burned your old school down?”

“I didn’t burn anything down!” Stan protested. Murmurs ran through the small crowd that had gathered. With a frustrated groan he shrugged in agreement. _What the hell._ “Yeah, that’s me.”

Xavier looked at his friends, then the crowd, and finally met Stan’s eyes. “Just keep your friend away from me!” he gritted out as he jabbed Stan in the chest with his finger. After that he turned and stalked off, friends following behind. The rest of the crowd dispersed, some looking back over their shoulders at Stan.

A weak, relieved chuckle bubbled out, leaving Stan feeling a bit shaky. He opened his mouth to say something like, “That turned out better than I thought” but Lizzie was already rounding on Chris.

“Next time, don’t expect us to help you avoid fights that you provoke. Neither of us want to wind up suspended because you like drama.” Her whole body was tensed as she glared at the scrawny boy. It was the most upset Stan had ever seen her.

Chris opened his mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it because his jaw shut with a click. He thought for a moment then said. “Well, I appreciate your help, Stanley. And, Elizabeth, I hope that one day we can be as close as we used to be.”

As he walked away Stan turned to ask Lizzie what that had meant but she was already entering the cafeteria. With an exasperated huff Stan ran after her. He caught up at the line and tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention.

“Yeah?” she said as she picked up a lunch tray.

“What did that knucklehead mean by that? Did you guys used to be friends?” He bristled at the thought of her laughing and hanging out with Chris. A voice that sounded an awful lot like Ford told him that he shouldn’t get worked up; Lizzie obviously wasn’t friends with the guy now and, either way, she could be friends with whoever she wanted. It didn’t do much to calm the uncomfortable jealous feeling that sat like a rock in his stomach.

“We used to be friends when we were little,” Lizzie explained in a low voice. “Then in fifth grade he said something stupid to the wrong kid. Long story short, I ended up with stitches in my lip and two days suspension. Chris got off scot free. I recommend you and Ford stay as far away from him as possible.”

Stan frowned as he leaned in to examine her lip. There was a faded scar there that he hadn’t noticed before. Lizzie blushed softly and leaned away from him. He realized that he was way too close and staring at her mouth. He took a step away and nodded as he picked up a carton of chocolate milk. “Gotcha.” He let out a shaky breath as he tried to think about anything but the awkwardness of a moment ago.

He settled on her warning about Chris. The incident she had described made him feel justified in his dislike of the kid. He hadn’t been planning on being buddy-buddy with Chris but now he knew to avoid him like the plague. He and Ford didn’t need someone like that disturbing the precarious balance that was their lives there in Gravity Falls.

 

* * *

 

Ford stood in the shower, looking down at his right arm. It felt strange to have the skin exposed to the open air again and to let the water rush over it. His cast had been the last remaining physical reminder of the attack, and it was gone. It was as if removing that weight from his arm also removed a subconscious weight that had been bearing down on him.

The appointment itself had gone so much better than his anxiety had been telling him it would. The doctor had just looked at his hand and asked if he’d always had six fingers, following it up with mutterings about run-off from the mud flap factory. Ford had confirmed they’d been that way since birth and they moved on with the appointment. After that, the rest of the day felt like a dream. Shermie and Lucy took him out to lunch. They stopped by the bookstore and got him some new science fiction novels. Then Lucy had insisted they go into the pet store next door and look at the colorful fish. Then their last stop had been a candy store where Ford had gotten a big bag of jellybeans and picked out a bag of toffee peanuts for Stan.

Ford rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and moved to turn off the water when the door to the bathroom burst open. He jumped and had to grab onto the hand bar to keep himself from slipping. Before he could demand that whoever had entered the bathroom get out, the curtain was ripped aside.

Stan stood there, grinning. “Shermie said that you guys had a good day! I wanted to tell you that I’m really proud of you and- Sixer, what are you doing?”

Ford reached up and turned the shower head until it was spraying outside of the shower, hitting Stan directly in the face. “Get out, before I pelt you with a bar of soap!”

Stan nodded as if he found the request reasonable, making Ford roll his eyes. “You want some privacy. I get it. I’ll see you when you’re done.”

Ford grabbed the shower curtain and whipped it closed as he turned the shower head back in toward the bathtub. He was trying to stay outraged at Stan’s lack of boundaries but the encounter had been so random that he was finding it difficult.

Ford didn’t hear Stan leave and was about to tell his twin to quit being creepy when he heard the toilet flush and the door slam. A moment later the water turned ice cold. Ford let out a startled shout as he tried to dodge the icy spray. His hand darted forward and flipped off the water.

Without hesitation, Ford jumped out of the shower and wrapped his towel around his waist in one motion. Then he shoved his glasses onto his face as he ran out of the bathroom. “Stanley!” he yelled, trying to sound angry. Instead the end of his brother’s name came out in a laugh. He missed the harmless pranks Stan used to pull. They had stopped abruptly after the incident. While he wouldn’t have found them funny so soon after the attack, he suddenly noticed how big of a part they played I  the twins’ relationship.

Ford ran down the hallway and into the living room, where he found Stan sitting on the couch, nonchalantly watching television. A smile was twitching at his lips as he tried to keep a straight face. Ford walked over and shoved his twin off the couch. “You knucklehead!”

Stan propped himself up onto his elbows from where he tumbled to the floor and stuck his tongue out at him. Ford couldn’t pretend to be angry any longer as they both burst into laughter.

Someone clearing their throat pulled Ford’s attention away from his twin. Shermie and Lucy were sitting at the dining table going over bills. Lucy was looking studiously down at their checkbook but an amused smile was on her lips. Shermie was lightly tapping his pen on the table. “How about you go put on some clothes, buddy,” Shermie suggested before using the pen to gesture to the towel wrapped around Ford’s waist.

Ford blushed a deep red as he looked down at himself. “Right. Sorry,” he said as he started shuffling toward the hallway.

“It’s alright,” his older brother replied with a barely suppressed chuckle.

Once he closed the bedroom door, Ford burst into laughter. He felt oddly giddy. Even though he was across the country from Glass Shard Beach, he felt he was finally getting his life back. He and Stan were beginning to fall back into their old routines of teasing and playfully pulling pranks on each other, the last reminder of the incident was gone, and for the first time school wasn’t the worst place in the world to be. He didn’t have to be perfect, neither of them did. They could finally breathe.


	8. Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To say Stan and Ford have a bad day at school would be an understatement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an intense chapter so please heed the tags.

It had been a little over a week since Ford had gotten his cast off. He woke up with a feeling of dread hanging over him. Things had been going too well. It couldn’t last. As much as he wanted the light heartedness that he and Stan had been enjoying to go on forever, he knew that it wasn’t meant to.

Ford followed Stan out into the living area and they both sat down at the table. Lucy was in the kitchen pulling out ingredients to make pancakes, humming lightly to herself. “Shermie is making breakfast for our guests, so I will be your chef this fine morning.”

“Ice cream for breakfast!” Stan cheered.

Ford tried to smile but it was a struggle to force his mouth to make the movement. Was that it? Was that short-lived week of contentedness all he would get?

“I appreciate you thinking outside the box,” Lucy said as she measured out ingredients. “But the menu for this morning is pancakes and fresh fruit.”

“You’re breaking my heart, Lucy,” Stan said, hand clasping his chest.

Their sister-in-law laughed and began combining the components in a mixing bowl. Halfway through she paused and put a hand to her mouth as she squeezed her eyes closed.

“Are you okay?” both twins asked at the same time.

“Uh, I don’t think… I can finish this… I’m not feeling so hot.” Lucy stepped out of the kitchen area and took a slow breath through her nose. Then her eyes suddenly widened. “I have to go!” she called over her shoulder as she darted toward the hallway.

Stan and Ford looked at each other in confusion. “Do you think she’ll be okay?” Ford asked. She’d been ill a lot lately. It seemed almost every morning  she was running to the bathroom to be sick. He hoped it wasn’t anything serious. The weird foreboding surged and he feared this may be what the bad feeling was about.

Stan shrugged in response to his twin’s question. “Shermie’ll check on her when he’s done serving breakfast to the guests. Right now, we gotta eat. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Or at least that’s what Mr. Jimenez said in health class.”

“You pay attention in health class?” Ford attempted to tease. It fell flat though and Stan gave him a huff of amusement out of pity.

Stan went into the kitchen and took stock of the half-made pancake batter. “I’ll provide for us, Sixer!” he said in a grandiose voice. “But I won’t make just any pancakes. These are going to be ‘Stancakes’!”

Ford walked over and leaned on the counter as he watched Stan pick up where Lucy had left off. “So, what’s the difference between pancakes and Stancakes?” he asked, trying to take his mind off the bad feeling, hovering like an aura.

Stan paused and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I guess it’s probably just that they’re gonna get some of my hair in ‘em.”

Ford pulled a disgusted face. “Gross! What’s wrong with you?” he said, his twin managing to draw a genuine laugh from him.

“Nothing ‘cept my two lame brothers.” Stan stuck his tongue out at him and gave a toothy grin.

They continued to banter back and forth as Ford helped Stan with the pancakes. Lucy came out to check on them at one point but ended up running back to the bathroom. Ford was able to almost completely forget about the cloud hanging over his head until Stan poured scoops of batter onto the stovetop griddle.

“Oh, hey, do ya think you can look over my math homework?” Stan asked as he watched the batter sizzle as it cooked. “I still don’t think I’m getting that formula right.”

“Sure.” Ford sat down at the table and pulled his twin’s homework from his backpack. He studied the messy scrawl of numbers, tapping his pencil against the paper to keep track of where he was.

Stan was actually smarter than their dad or the teachers back in Glass Shard Beach gave him credit for. He just got distracted too easily when he wasn’t interested in a subject. Math and history were what he struggled in. He said that the numbers and dates were difficult to keep track of. So, Ford did his best to help him. At times he even did Stan’s homework for him. But he tried to limit that to only when his twin got too frustrated or stressed out.

“You didn’t do too bad, Stanley. You should look over numbers five, nine and fourteen again before we leave, though.”

Stan groaned. “Really? Nine was the one that I was sure I got right.” He dropped the spatula on the counter and walked over to the table. “What could I have done wrong?”

Ford began to advise him on how to fix the errors when he smelled something burning. He looked over his shoulder to see black smoke rising from the griddle. “Lee, the pancakes!”

With a yelp of surprise Stan dashed over to the stove. He threw the griddle, pancakes and all, into the sink and flipped on the faucet. He then sighed as he walked over to turn off the burners. “I guess we’re having cold cereal for breakfast,” he mumbled out. “Sorry, Ford.”

“That’s alright,” he said, swallowing down his disappointment.

 

* * *

 

Ford could hear Stan’s stomach growling constantly on the walk to school, Stan complaining about his hunger to accompany it. “Damn math made me burn the Stancakes,” he whined. “Now, I’m starving. How about we skip school and go to the diner? I still have a few bucks from helping run the gift shop.”

Part of Ford actually considered Stan’s offer to play hooky. He knew that if he agreed Stan would take advantage of it in a heartbeat. They could spend the day going to the diner and then exploring the woods for more strange creatures like the plaidypus and gnomes. But they couldn’t get into trouble. Shermie had had to promise that Stan would be on his best behavior to get the school to allow him to attend. Skipping school probably wouldn’t be something they’d be willing to overlook.

Ford lightly shoved his twin. “You had three bowls of cereal. How are you still hungry?”

“Eating cereal is like eating a bowl full of air,” he claimed with a sigh.

They were nearing the school when the sun suddenly dimmed. Ford looked up to see dark clouds moving in. He wanted to let out a wry laugh at the literal dark cloud hanging over his head. It was a perfect representation of how he’d been feeling since he woke up that morning. “We should hurry if we don’t want to get caught in the rain.”

“Yeah,” Stan agreed as he looked up too. “Maybe we can catch the end of breakfast.”

Thunder roared, all too close, causing them both to startle. Then a sprinkle of rain drizzled onto their heads, and quickly became a downpour. Stan suddenly grinned at Ford with a sparkle of mischief in his eye. “Race ya inside!” Then he took off.

Ford raced after him, but with the head start, Stan made it into the school by the time he reached the drop off zone. He slowed to a walk as he passed the line of cars. The challenge that he would normally find entertaining was only frustrating him.

One of the vehicles abruptly pulled out of the line and zoomed off. A tire splashed through a quickly collecting puddle and sprayed Ford with a mixture of rain water and mud. He was soaked from head to toe. His damp jeans chafed uncomfortably against his legs and he could feel his socks swelling with water inside his shoes.

When Ford entered the school, Stan was waiting for him with a smug grin that quickly morphed into a concerned frown. Before he could make it over to his twin, the janitor walked by with his mop bucket and stopped in front of Ford.

“You damn kids, splashing around in puddles and making more work for me!” he groused at Ford, gesturing to his rain-soaked clothes. “You think I live to clean up after all of you? You little bastards need to learn respect for your elders.”

Ford shrunk inwards. He wanted to dodge around the janitor but he feared the man would grab him and hold him their to listen to his speech. He attempted to glance around the large man to at least meet his twin’s eye, try and convey his message that he needed back up.

Then the janitor leaned to stay in his line of sight as he continued his rant. “Back in my day the principal wasn’t afraid to bring out the paddle. Parents smacked their kids around a little to remind them of their place. And teachers…”

_~~“I think the freak needs to be trained to learn his place.”~~_ Ford held his right arm close to his torso, cradling it. Where was Stanley? He looked around but couldn’t seem to find his twin. He bit down hard on the inside of his mouth and the pain helped to ground him.

Then someone pushed past the janitor cutting his lecture short. “Hey, old man, some of us have to go to class. No one cares about your weird fetish for smacking kids.” It was Stan. He kicked the mop bucket out of the way, sending it rolling across the hall and nearly hitting a couple of students who had to jump out of the way.

Stan grabbed Ford’s hand and pulled him along. The janitor was still spluttering as they rounded a corner. “You okay?” Stan asked. “I shouldn’t have tried to race. It was stupid. I’m really sorry, Sixer.”

Ford wanted to tell him that it was okay, it wasn’t his fault, but he was too busy trying to take deep steadying breaths. “I’ll… be fine,” he finally managed to get out. “It’s not your fault… that the janitor is a lunatic.”

Stan smiled and put an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s go see if there’s any breakfast left.”

 

* * *

 

Homeroom and the morning classes went by uneventfully. The dread Ford had been feeling didn’t lighten, in fact, the atmosphere of the rain and thunder outside only helped to preserve it. As they walked to art class he tried to remind himself that they were going to see Lizzie and then it would be lunch. Then the day would be halfway done. It didn’t do much to brighten his mood, but it did allow him to be able to smile as he watched Stan straighten his clothes and smooth out his hair in preparation to see Lizzie.

“You have such a crush,” Ford commented with a roll of his eyes.

His twin’s face went bright red at the accusation. “No, I don’t!” Stan protested. “Lizzie’s our friend. Is it so unusual to want to look good for _our friend_?”

“ _I_ don’t obsess over how I look for her,” he shot back.

Stan frowned and shoved his hands into his pockets. “That’s cause you don’t care that you look like a slob.”

The back and forth helped. Ford was finding his way back to the optimism he had felt during the past week. “I think you two would be good together,” he admitted. “You seem more relaxed when you’re with her, happier.”

Ford went to round a corner but he paused when he realized that Stan was no longer beside him. He turned back to see Stan, stopped a few feet away, looking at him with wide eyes. He walked back over and stopped in front of his brother. “Stan?”

“I… I’m happy with you too,” he insisted. “Lizzie’s great and all, but we’re twins. Together forever.”

“I know. But it’s also good for us to have other interests.” He didn’t want Stan to think he was pushing him away but this was a good opportunity to put the idea of a little independence out there. “Like a girlfriend,” he finished in a teasing manner.

Stan smiled, though it seemed forced, and nodded. “Don’t worry, we’ll find you a girl too. Though, she’d have to be a total nerd to be _your_ girlfriend.”

They continued onto their class, but as they walked down the next hall, they found a crowd of students stopped in the middle of the corridor. As they approached they could hear kids saying something about a fight. Ford dropped back as Stan got closer. “Lee,” Ford said as he tried to hold onto Stan’s hand. “Don’t.”

But Stan didn’t listen. He disappeared into the crowd of students, pushing his way toward the front. Ford hesitated for a moment before following. He reflexively held his right arm close to his body as he pushed his way to the front. When he made it to the center of the wide circle the crowd had made, he saw two boys facing each other. A scrawny boy with slicked back, jet black hair was cowering away from a much larger boy, much bigger than Crampelter. Stan had gotten closer to them than anyone else dared.

Ford wanted to yell at Stan to stay out of whatever this was, but he didn’t want to call attention to himself. Instead he did his best to try to catch Stan’s eye. He wanted to silently tell him to back off, that they couldn’t afford to get involved, but Stanley was actively avoiding his gaze.

“Guys,” Stan said addressing the boys. “I and everyone else need to get to class. How about you talk this out calmly? I’m sure the janitor would like to not have to mop up your blood.”

“He called my momma a slut!” the larger boy growled.

The other kid threw his hands up in exasperation. “That’s not what I said at all! I only mentioned that she has slept with at least three of my relatives.” He held up three fingers for emphasis.

The larger boy lunged forward at the scrawny kid with a roar of fury. Stan threw himself between them, acting as a shield for the smaller boy. The crowd went crazy, some shouting encouragement while others screamed for them to stop. The three middle schoolers went down as the larger boy was still trying to get at the other kid. Stan yelled but Ford couldn’t make out his words with the other students shouting.

Ford should help. He should be jumping in there to get the giant of a middle schooler off of Stan. He tried to step forward but his legs wouldn’t move. Fine. He could go get a teacher then. _Move. Just move. It’s not that hard. Just pick up your feet and move!_ Instead his hands lifted all on their own and clapped over his hears. At the same time his eyes squeezed shut. _No! No! Don’t shut it out! Stan needs you! ~~You coward! Coward! Coward!~~ COWARD!_

When Ford finally managed to pull his hands away and force his eyes open, a teacher was pulling the boys off of each other. The larger boy was still trying to get at the scrawny one but Stan stepped back. His lip was split and bloody, and his shirt sleeve was torn. The teacher got the other two boys to calm down and turned to the crowd. “All of you get to class. Now!”

The students dispersed quickly, muttering about the fight. Ford felt them jostle him as they passed but he kept his eyes focused on his twin. How could he have let Stan get hurt? It happened right in front of him and he hadn’t been able to stop it. What was wrong with him?

“Stanley Pines,” the teacher said as he turned to Stan. “Why am I not surprised? I was warned about you. All of us were.” He huffed out a sigh then herded all three of the boys. “Come on. We’re taking a trip to see the principle.”

“Wait! I need to stay with Ford,” Stan protested as he slipped by the teacher. Suddenly he was beside Ford, holding his hand.

Ford let out a shaky breath. He must have been holding it this whole time because it felt like he was breathing for the first time in forever. Then the teacher was grabbing Stan, jerking him away, and it felt like the oxygen had been stolen from his lungs.

“Get to class!” the teacher barked at him as they disappeared around a corner.

_No, no, no._ _Where was Stanley going? What was happening? No. Wait. Stan was expelled. It was his fault. Stan fought Crampelter for him. Stan was gone. He was all alone now._

Ford crumpled to the ground. He pulled his knees up to his chest. He needed to breathe.

They were going to come after him now. Crampelter’s friends would want revenge. But that had already happened. Hadn’t it? What was he supposed to do? His breaths were coming in gasps. The lights above him were too bright. The students running through the halls were too loud. He was so confused. His brain refused to work. His mom had always told him that he had that big brain of his for a reason but right now it was failing him. He needed Stan. Where was Stan?

 

_He’d spent lunch in the library. It was his safe space. The librarian was a pleasant young woman who greeted him whenever he came in and let him know when the school library got a new book, which wasn’t often. She was also one of those few people who didn’t even blink at his six fingered hands._

_Without Stan there he was going to be spending any moment he wasn’t in class, in the library. That was his plan to get through the rest of the year. After that… well, he’d think about it once the school year was over._

_Ford poked his head out of the library and was relieved to see that the hall was empty. Now, he just had to make it to class. He walked out and down the hall. Someone suddenly grabbed him from behind. Ford’s stomach dropped as he was dragged backwards, a hand clapped over his mouth, keeping him from crying out._

_He was pulled into the boy’s bathroom and thrown to the floor. He looked up to find that he was surrounded by four boys. All of them were at least a year older than him. One of them had been held back several times and was probably a good three years his senior._

_“Hey, Pines,” a boy who was short and chubby said in a nasally voice. “Time for payback for what your brother did to Crampelter.”_

_“He deserved it!” Ford snapped as he got to his feet. He was tired of being afraid. He was tired of having to watch his back when he just wanted to get to his next class. He and Stan didn’t ask to be harassed every day. In his opinion, Crampelter deserved worse than what Stan did to him. He was proud of his brother for doing what he did._

_A taller boy with freckles and buck teeth shoved Ford back to the ground. “Shut up, freak! You’ll speak when we tell you, you can speak.”_

_“I think the freak needs to be trained to learn his place,”_ _said another boy with a scar by his eyebrow._

_Ford scrambled to his feet. Rage and shame fought for dominance in his gut. Rage won out and he threw a punch at the boy with the scar. The boy stumbled back and Ford couldn’t help but grin. Stanley would have loved to see that._

_But the sense of victory didn’t last long. Several pairs of hands were suddenly on him and he was being forced to the ground. His backpack was ripped off and his glasses slipped from his face in the fray._

_“Let me go!” Ford screamed. A fist hit him in the face. There was white hot pain that radiated through his head and blood started gushing from his nose._

_“Shut him up or we’ll get caught!” the nasally voice said._

_Someone pulled his shoe and sock off then shoved the sock into his mouth. Ford didn’t have the chance to be properly disgusted. A kick landed in his gut, knocking the wind out of him. He tried to turn away or use his arms to block but two of the boys were holding him down._

_There were more kicks and punches, and soon enough they all blurred together. Ford couldn’t stop the tears pouring from his eyes. This was his own fault. If he just hadn’t told Stan about Crampelter’s threat, none of this would have happened. He would still have Stan there._

_One of the boys stomped down hard on his arm. There was a sickening crack that echoed through the bathroom. Ford’s vision went black for a moment. Pain. That was all that his world had become._

_Then everything stopped. The kicks and punches and taunts ceased. It was replaced by the beautiful sound of the bathroom door creaking open. Ford turned his head to see a blurred outline of someone. He recognized the green blazer he’d seen earlier in history class. It was their history teacher, Mr. Owens. Yes, this was a teacher, an adult. A teacher would save him._

_Owens was looking down in his direction. Ford waited for Owens to yell at the bullies to let him go. The teacher turned to the boys that were standing over him. What was he waiting for? Then Owens nodded at them, turned, and walked out._

_Ford tried to call out through the makeshift gag. His muffled screams did nothing to change the teacher’s mind. Owens was really leaving him there. He was okay with them doing this to Ford. But it made a sick, horrible sort of sense. No one cared about some freak, some mistake._

_The beating started up again, with a renewed vigor, now that their mission had been validated by a teacher. They weren’t even trying to be quiet anymore._

_“We’re gonna kill you, then your guard dog, you six-fingered freak!”_

_“Beg us to let you live, freak!”_

_“Yeah, beg us not to break every bone in your freakish body!”_

_The sock was ripped out of his mouth. The first thing to come out was a pained sob. The bullies laughed and mocked the sound he made. Then one of them nudged his bruised face with the toe of his shoe._

_“We told you to beg, didn’t we? Come on, freak. It’s part of your training,” the nasally voiced boy ordered._

_He couldn’t do it. What would Stan think of him? What would his dad think of him? What would Ford think of himself? No, he wouldn’t beg. He wouldn’t sink that low._

_The foot wasn’t nudging his face anymore. “Beg!”_

_“No,” Ford croaked out._

_The foot pressed down on his broken arm. Ford screamed._

_“Shit!” one of the boys holding his arms said. “Someone definitely heard that. We need to get out of here!”_

_“Not until he begs.”_

_The foot pressed down again._

_Ford couldn’t take it. Screw what anyone thought of him. He just wanted the agony to stop. “Please!” he cried out. “Please stop! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He didn’t know what he was sorry for. Maybe he was sorry for telling Stan, or for refusing to beg, or maybe he was sorry for being born with six fingers on each hand._

_“Next time you think that you’ll ever be normal, remember this, freak.” The nasally voiced boy was hovering over him, close enough for Ford to make out his pudgy face. Then the boy spit on him. Ford screwed his eyes shut as he felt it hit his face. And that was worse than the beating, or Mr. Owens leaving him there. To them he was nothing more than some freakish, disfigured animal that they could torture and humiliate for fun._

_They released him. He heard them rush out of the bathroom, the squeak of sneakers against the linoleum and the slam of the door echoing around him. It was over. He closed his eyes and woke up in an ambulance._

 

* * *

 

Stan sat in the office, knee bouncing up and down in agitation. Xavier and Chris sat on either side of him. Xavier was muttering to himself about what he was going to tell his mom, while Chris stayed silent, face white as a sheet.

What had he done? Lizzie had warned him not to get involved with Chris and what had he done: gotten involved. He just didn’t want anyone getting hurt. He didn’t want anyone else to end up like Ford. But in doing so he had abandoned his brother. Now Ford was all alone and he had no idea what was happening to him.

Tired of sitting there doing nothing, Stan jumped up and approached the secretary. “I need to leave. I have to go see my brother. He needs me.”

She looked Stan up and down in disbelief. “You are in a lot of trouble, Stanley Pines. The only thing you need to do is sit down.”

This wasn’t going to work. If he just ran out, he could get back to Ford, but then he would just be dragged back to the office. “Then I need to call my big brother. I need him to come down here and get Ford.”

“Oh, don’t you worry. We already called your older brother. He’s on his way and I doubt he’ll be happy about you being expelled from another school.”

Stan’s stomach dropped. “What?” he asked barely above a whisper. He’d fucked up again. How? How could this be happening again? Visions of his dad, arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head in disappointment, flashed through his mind. He could almost hear him yelling, _“Another school! You got yourself kicked out of another school! You’re more useless than I thought.”_

“Go sit back down,” the secretary told him. “Principal Wentworth will call you all in once yours and the other boys’ guardians are here.”

Stan robotically went back to his seat. Tears stung his eyes and he didn’t bother to try to hold them back. He deserved to be humiliated.

 

* * *

 

Shermie parked the car and slammed the door as he got out. He had wanted things to be better for them in Gravity Falls. He really had, but maybe no matter where they went people would tear them down. Well, it was going to stop here. He didn’t believe that principal for a second, that Stanley had instigated this. Stan wouldn’t have risked getting in a fight unless it was to protect Ford.

He heard the passenger side door shut and suddenly Lucy was there grasping his hand. Her eyes were hard and determined. “Let’s go,” she said with a nod. He’d never been more grateful he’d married someone as strong as Lucy.

They made their way to the office and as soon as he passed through the door, Stan leapt up from a chair between two other boys. Shermie was startled to see that he had an untreated busted lip, blood dried from it on his chin, and a quickly darkening black eye.  The other boys sitting with him, while disheveled looked uninjured.

“Why isn’t he with the nurse?” Shermie demanded of the secretary, before Stan could speak.

The secretary ignored his question and instead pressed a button on an intercom. “Mr. Pines is here.”

“Shermie, that doesn’t matter,” Stan said urgently. “I need to check on Ford. They wouldn’t let me stay with him and he didn’t look so good.”

Shermie was certain that his heart stuttered at that. “What? What do you mean?”

Stan opened his mouth to explain but the principle came out of his office and cut him off. “Mr. Pines, we’re still waiting on Xavier’s and Christopher’s parents but I wanted to have a quick word with you separately,” Principal Wentworth said with a dangerous glint in his eye. “Considering the discussion we had before Stanley began attending here, I think we need to revisit the agreement put in place.”

“First, I need to check on Stanford.”

Wentworth blinked in surprise, then frowned deeply. “Mr. Pines, I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation. Stanley is a danger to the other students in this school.”

“Stanley is nothing of the sort!” Lucy argued as she stepped closer beside her husband.

Shermie took a deep breath, trying to sort out his thoughts. He could deal with arguing on Stan’s behalf later. Right now finding out if Ford was okay was top priority. “I want to see Stanford. Now.” Shermie insisted, doing his best Filbrick impression.

The door to the front office opened and a small girl entered. She paused upon seeing all of the adults arguing. “Excuse me,” she said in a lilting voice. “I need to see the nurse.”

“Of course,” Wentworth said before stepping aside for her to pass. He then turned back to Shermie. “Look, Stanford is in class. He is not the twin you should be concerned about. Right now Stanley is facing expulsion.”

“No way.” Shermie put a hand on Stan’s shoulder. He’d already made the mistake of misjudging his brother once. He wasn’t going to do it a second time. “I trust that Stan has a good explanation for all of this and I want to hear him out… after I see Stanford.”

“Ms. Nelson, I was sent to get you because Stanford Pines is having some sort of fit.”

Shermie turned at hearing his brother’s name. The little girl was standing at the nurse’s open door, speaking to her.

“What do you mean ‘fit’?” Shermie called over. At her confused expression he tried to clarify. “I’m his older brother.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Ms. Zane found him in the middle of the hallway and he’s kind of, well… freaking out.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s in the art room. Head out the door turn left, then a right and at the second hallway take another right. It’s the second door on your left.”

Shermie turned and ran out of the office. He could hear a crowd of footsteps following him. _Left._ He had thought things were getting better. How had the tide shifted so suddenly? _Right._ Stanley and Stanford deserved so much better than this. They deserved to be safe and happy. If he had to pick up and move so that they could find that, then he would. He was willing to abandon the business he had worked so hard to build. They were his family and they came first. _Right._ They would always come first. _Left._ Shermie burst into the art room.

 

* * *

 

Stan entered behind Shermie. Lucy and Wentworth were only a few feet behind him, he could hear their footfalls coming up close. He slipped past his older brother to get to his twin. Ford was sitting on the floor in a corner, knees pulled up to his chest. Lizzie was sitting cross-legged in front of him, holding his hand, barely grasping the fingertips and Ms. Zane was crouched beside him.

This was bad. This was really bad. Ford’s head was bent forward, shielding his face from Stan’s view, but he could hear shallow, shuddering breaths coming from his brother. Stan felt helpless, without a clue what to do for Ford.

Upon seeing them enter, the art teacher stood and approached them. Stan heard her talking to the adults but he tuned them out in favor of focusing on Ford. He walked over and kneeled beside Lizzie. She released Ford’s hand and stepped away to give them space.

“Hey, Sixer. I’m here. Its okay.”

Ford looked up and Stan wanted nothing more than to start the whole day over when he saw tears streaming down his twin’s face. “I can’t breathe,” Ford gasped out. “I can’t breathe. You- you were gone!”

“You can breathe, bro bro.” Logic was something that was comforting to Ford so he would use it to his advantage. “You’re talking to me, ain’t ya? So, that means you can breathe.”

“Then- then why… why does it feel like I’m dying? You were gone! You were gone.”

Stan grabbed Ford’s hand too tightly. How could he have let them take him away from Ford? He could never let that happen again. “I’m here now. I’m right here and I’m never leaving you again.”

 

* * *

 

Stan sat on the floor in front of the couch. The TV was on with the volume turned way down. Right now it was playing some commercial for dish soap. An unrealistically dolled up housewife was demonstrating how well the soap worked on an already clean plate. He couldn’t imagine Lucy wearing makeup and heels just to clean.

Ford was in their room taking a nap while Shermie and Lucy had retreated to their bedroom to discuss what had happened earlier. Stan swallowed hard and tried to focus on the show that had just come back from the commercial break. His attention refused to stay on it though as his mind kept drifting back to the way Ford had looked when he finally made it back to his brother’s side.  He was dreading the phone call Shermie would have to make to their parents to tell them what had happened. It would come out that he didn’t keep his promise. He had screwed up again.

He heard a door open and moments later Shermie was sitting down on the floor beside him. His older brother leaned forward and turned off the TV before settling back. “I want to talk to you about what happened today,” Shermie said with a sigh.

Stan sniffed and blinked back the tears threatening to fall. “Yeah.”

“Lucy and I talked to your principal on the phone. You’re not in any trouble for the fight. Xavier and Christopher told him that you were only trying to stop it. But you are not to try anything like that again. You have to get a teacher if you see a fight going on. Okay?”

Stan nodded. “Okay.”

There was a pause in which Shermie seemed to be thinking hard about what to say next. Stan didn’t blame him. His older brother was probably trying to figure out which of Stan’s mistakes to address next. Well, he’d make it easy for him.

“I’m sorry, Sherm. I screwed up big time. I shouldn’t have left Ford all alone like that. It’s my responsibility to take care of him and I failed. You were right about me before. I am a screw up.”

Shermie looked at him with wide eyes. “No, Stanley, I said it before and I’ll say it again. It was wrong of me to overreact and say all the things I said when I left you to run the gift shop. Taking some of your advice has made a real difference. You’re a smart kid. Which is why you should already know that you didn’t do anything wrong today.”

“No! I left Ford! It’s my fault that he was freaking out! I did that to him.” Stan didn’t understand how Shermie didn’t see that. It was plain as day that all of this was his fault. Ford was broken because of him.

Shermie wrapped an arm around his shoulders and rested his head against Stan’s. “Listen to me. It’s good that you look out for your brother. You _should_ be looking out for each other. But, he is not your responsibility. I’m responsible for the both of you. You did nothing to hurt Ford. Today was just an all around bad day. Things that were out of our control happened and it didn’t turn out well. It will get better.”

“But I _am_ responsible for Ford!” Stan protested vehemently. His big brother didn’t understand. He didn’t know about the promise. “Pa asked me to take care of Ford. I promised him that I’d keep Ford safe. I broke my promise. He’s going to know I broke my promise. He’ll hate me.”

Shermie shifted to look Stan in the eye. His jaw was clenched the same way Pa’s did when he was angry. Stan prepared himself for Shermie to yell at him. He could take it. This time he knew he deserved it.

 “Pa is an idiot,” Shermie said finally. “He shouldn’t have done that to you. You’re a kid. You shouldn’t have that kind of pressure on your shoulders. I’ll talk to him and let him know that none of this is your fault.”

Stan bit back a sob. He didn’t want to cry. Shermie was absolving him of his mistakes and he didn’t know why. What had he done to deserve that? Then Shermie pulled him close and was hugging him. He hugged him back and let out a shaky sigh. He would allow himself that.

Shermie rested his head against Stan’s. “We will all be okay. I promise.”

 


	9. The Bottomless Pit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan tries to cheer up Ford with a mystery.

Stan woke up the next morning still feeling exhausted. He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep but the sun streaming in, even through the closed blinds, kept him all too alert. Memories of the previous day trickled into the forefront of his mind, reminding him of his shortcomings. He had failed Ford, and as much as Shermie tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, he knew deep down that it was.

Stan climbed down the ladder (they still hadn’t traded back bunks) and peeked in on Ford. He was still asleep, or perhaps pretending to be. It was hard to tell, the way Ford had the blanket pulled up to cover most of his face.

He left the room and walked down the hallway, but stopped at the mouth of it when he heard Lucy on the phone.

“Yes, I had an appointment with Dr. Metcalf. I’ll need to cancel.” There was a short pause then Lucy continued. “My husband’s car broke down and he won’t make it back in time to watch the kids in order for me to go to the appointment.” Another pause. “Oh, I can’t bring them with me… they’re sick.”

Lucy had obviously been ill for the past few weeks. Stan didn’t want to keep her from getting it checked out just because she thought they needed constant supervision. He stepped out of the hallway and tapped her on the shoulder.

“One moment,” she said into the phone before turning to him. “What is it, hon?”

“Go to your appointment. We’ll be fine here.” He did his best to sound certain and put on a confident smile.

She frowned in concern. “You boys would be alone for way too long. Shermie’s car broke down in town. He has to wait for the tow and then ride over to the mechanics. Then he’ll need to wait for someone to drive him back here.”

“We’ve stayed home alone before.” He could tell that she was reluctant because of what had happened the previous day. He needed to prove that he could do this right. He could make sure Lucy got to her appointment and he could take care of Ford. “We aren’t going anywhere. Just resting at home. We’ll be fine.”

Lucy glanced at the clock, then at the phone, and back to Stan. “Okay.” She lifted the phone to her ear again. “Actually, I will be able to make it. Sorry, for the bother.” She hung up and turned back to Stan with a very serious expression on her face. “I have to leave now if I’m going to make it in time. I’m going to call Mrs. Corduroy once I get there and have her check in on you boys. I told the guests we wouldn’t be in today and they all said that wasn’t a problem. And I already cleaned the rooms. Are you sure that you boys will be okay without me?”

“I promise we will. We’re probably just going to watch TV and eat junk food.”

Lucy nodded and ran to grab her purse off the counter. She stopped next to the door and turned back to him one last time. “I should be back in a couple of hours. I’m proud of you, Stanley.”

Stan turned to the kitchen. First order of business: make breakfast.

As he got to work on his second attempt at Stancakes, he contemplated what it was that Ford needed. Easy answer: what he needed was cheering up. Next question: what made Ford happy? Nerd stuff. But trying to play Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons would only frustrate them both. Stan because of all the math and Ford because he’d be able to tell Stan wasn’t enjoying himself. Second best answer: a mystery.

He could do mysteries. “Just call me Mr. Mystery,” he muttered to himself as he flipped one of the Stancakes.

He didn’t want to go too far to search out something for Ford. Leaving him would just make things worse. Maybe he could find something right there near the house.

 

* * *

 

Ford woke up to the scent of pancakes. For a moment he was back in Glass Shard Beach, waking up on Sunday morning to his mom’s pancakes, with maple syrup and powdered sugar. But when he slowly sat up the fantasy faded as he realized he was on the bottom bunk, in Oregon. The memories of the previous day flooded in. He almost rolled over and pulled the blanket back over his head. Then he caught a glimpse of a plate full of pancakes sitting on the bedside table.

He picked up the plate and the bottle of syrup beside it. On the bottle was a note, turning translucent from soaking in the syrup that leaked from the cap.

_Nerd,_

_Eat your Stancakes then meet me at the back door._

_Love,_

_Stan_

Ford dug in and was pleasantly surprised to find that they were cooked perfectly. As he ate, he wondered what Stan could be planning. He also wondered if he would be up for it. He had never thought of himself as fragile but after his breakdown he was afraid that it would happen again. It had been scary and humiliating. He had felt so out of control, like the whole world was going to end. Everything around him had disappeared and been replaced with chaos.

When he finished eating, Ford stayed sitting on his bed for a while longer. Going back to sleep was tempting, or just telling Stan that he didn’t feel up to going outside. Yeah. He would tell Stan that he was too tired. His twin would understand.

Ford used the restroom and brushed his teeth, then went to find his brother. At the back door he found Stan waiting, with two flashlights in hand and a huge rock under his arm. He was about to beg off whatever plans Stan had but instead his curiosity got the better of him. “What’s that for?”

Stan grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “These are mystery solving supplies. The better question at the moment is, why are you still in your pajamas, Poindexter?”

Ford looked down at himself and remembered his resolution to stay inside. “I didn’t-”

“Eh, that’s okay,” his twin cut him off. “We aren’t competing in any fashion competitions. Come on, we have a mystery to solve!”

Stan started off before Ford could protest and instead of just going back inside, Ford found himself following. The enthusiasm coming off of his twin was infectious and Ford was actually becoming excited to see whatever it was that Stan was leading him too.

They didn’t go very far, stopping at a large pit that they all had passed by several times while walking around the property. Ford looked around trying to figure out what the mystery was. “So, what is it you wanted to show me?”

“Behold!” Stan said, using his grandiose, showman voice. “The mystery of… the really deep hole!”

Ford laughed as he looked over the flimsy railing Shermie had put up to keep anyone from getting too close. “Lee, it’s a hole. I’m sorry to say that it isn’t very mysterious at all.”

Without being phased, Stan dropped the rock over the railing then climbed over after it. “You think so? Then watch this, Sixer.” He dropped the large rock into the hole then cupped a hand around his ear to listen.

Ford leaned in and did the same. They both stayed silent, listening for a painfully long amount of time. “There’s no bottom,” he finally said, realizing why Stan brought him out there.

“Now, you’re getting it.”

Ford hopped over the railing and took one of the flashlights from Stan. Forgetting all of his earlier hesitation about going out, he stood at the edge of the pit and shined the beam of light down into it. The darkness seemed to swallow the weak, artificial lighting. “This is amazing! It’s an actual bottomless pit!”

“I knew you’d like this,” Stan said more to himself than to Ford.

Ford shuffled closer to the edge. His stomach did a flip and a thrill ran through him. A hand grabbed the back of his shirt and for a second he thought it was going to shove him in, but then it pulled him a couple steps back. He looked over his shoulder to see Stan frowning.

“Careful, Poindexter.”

Ford felt a rush of irritation. Stan probably thought he was weak now. After seeing him break down like that, it was the only logical conclusion. But Stanley should know better. Shouldn’t he? They both knew how strong the other one was. Except… was Ford strong anymore? He hadn’t rushed in to help Stan during the fight. He had frozen up, like a coward. A wave of guilt washed over him, smothering his earlier irritation with his brother.

“Thanks,” he muttered in response to Stan pulling him away from the edge.

Stan seemed to sense the waning enthusiasm and tried to salvage it. “We should throw more stuff in. Just to make sure.”

Ford nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Okay.”

They went back inside and Stan quickly gathered some more items to throw in the pit. Ford only grabbed a couple of things. A couple of Stan’s socks that had no match and an old copy of _Around the World in Eighty Days_ that had gotten ruined while doing a science experiment.

They went back out and took turns throwing stuff in. Stan held up a pair of walkie talkies. “I’ll throw one in and see if there’s anything down there to talk to,” he explained.

“Good thinking,” Ford agreed with a nod. “We have no idea where it leads, or what creatures may be there. If they are intelligent and the signal reaches, we may be making an important scientific discovery.”

“For science!” Stan cheered as he dropped the walkie talkie in. He then turned on the other one, static filling the air between them. After a minute, Stan huffed in frustration and started fiddling with the channel dial.

Ford noticed that his twin was unconsciously edging closer to the pit. He waited for a moment, expecting Stan to notice and step back, but he wasn’t. “Lee,” he said, trying to get his twin’s attention.

“Is this thing tuned right? Dammit, I should have checked before I threw it in.”

“Stanley.” He injected more urgency into his voice, but held back on raising it, not wanting to startle Stan.

His twin continued to stare down at the walkie talkie as he turned to Ford. “What is it, Six-” He overbalanced, tipping backwards towards the pit.

“Stan!” Ford’s hand darted out and he grabbed the front of Stan’s shirt. But he hadn’t expected how heavy Stan was.  He was jerked forward, along with his brother, into the pit.

As they hurtled downwards, twin screams bounced off of the walls of the pit. Even with already developing the hypothesis that it was bottomless, Ford awaited the impact of the ground meeting his body. He imagined the way his bones would shatter like glass and his internal organs would be destroyed by the force. Then his breath ran out and he sucked in more air to continue screaming. He paused and instead exhaled normally. They were still falling.

He looked over at Stan, who stared back with wide eyes. “This is both terrifying and awesome,” Stan commented, voice wavering a bit.

“This hole has to go somewhere.” He shifted his weight and managed a sitting up position.

Stan tried to do the same but ended up doing a backflip. “Did you see that? I totally just did a backflip! I’m gonna try again!”

Ford watched as his twin wiggled around trying to mimic his previous movements. He was amazed at how resilient Stan was. Their father put him down, he only tried harder; got expelled from one school, but is doing better at the next. He had forgiven Shermie so quickly, and went right back to how the two had always been. Now they’d fallen into a bottomless pit because Ford wasn’t strong enough to save him and Stan was attempting to do backflips.

“Okay, so I can’t do it again,” Stan admitted breathlessly. “But I swear that I did one before.”

“Don’t worry, I saw,” Ford reassured softly.

Stan pushed through the air until he was next to Ford. “It’s okay, Sixer. Wherever we end up we can just jump back in to get home. And if we can’t, at least we’ll be together.”

Ford crossed his arms over his chest as if he was trying to hug himself. Maybe that was what he was doing. “I wish I was as strong as you.”

“What are you talking about?” Stan asked, blinking in surprise.

_Do I really want to tell Stan what happened? What if he agrees that I’m as weak as I feel?_ He reached out and took Stan’s hand. Stan squeezed it reassuringly. _I can trust him. I’ve always been able trust him._

“Stan, after you were expelled…” Ford told him. He told him how the other boys ambushed him and beat him up in the bathroom. He told Stan about how Mr. Owens walked in and then left him there. It was difficult, but he told Stan how they made him beg them to stop. By the end tears were running down both of their faces.

Stan hugged him tightly, clinging to him. Surprisingly, this time Ford didn’t feel suffocated. It felt like a burden had been lifted. He was finally able to tell someone what had happened to him. He didn’t feel like he was dealing with it alone anymore.

“I hate them,” Stan grit out. “I hate all of Glass Shard Beach. No. I hate all of New Jersey. They’re all assholes.”

Ford let out a wet laugh. “ _I_ don’t hate Glass Shard Beach. Yes, that’s where I was hurt, but its also where we built the Stan O’ War and its where we’ve had countless adventures together.”

“You’re stronger than you think you are, Ford.”

“What?” He was taken aback by the conviction in his brother’s voice. Stan sounded so sure. “How?”

Stan released him from the hug but kept hold of his arm so that they would stay tethered to each other. “You went through something really bad, but you survived. Just because you said what you had to, to make it end… that doesn’t make you weak. You made it through, and somehow you can still see the good in Glass Shard Beach. You’re strong, Stanford. You’re probably stronger than me.”

Ford looked away. He knew that if he met his twin’s eyes he would start crying harder. He wanted to thank Stan for the things he said, but instead what came out was, “Yeah, well, I am older. So that makes me the alpha twin.”

“No way!” Stan shouted with a bark of laughter. “I’m taller! That means _I’m_ the alpha twin.”

Ford raised a skeptical eyebrow. “There is no evidence that you are taller.”

“Once we’re back on solid ground, you’ll see. I have at least an inch on you.”

Ford looked down and his cheerful smile slipped off his face. Light was fast approaching as they descended. “Stanley,” he said as he pointed down.

Stan’s gaze followed where he was pointing and he audibly gulped. “Solid ground, here we come.”

They gripped each other’s forearms and squeezed their eyes shut. Then it suddenly felt as if they’d been thrown upwards. They went flying through the air, losing their hold on each other as they went. Ford’s eyes snapped open as he hit the ground hard. He scrambled to his feet and looked around.

The sky, the grass, the forest, the bed and breakfast… they were home. Ford sank to his knees and flopped back to lay on the ground staring up at the sky. Moments later Stan laid down next to him.

“Let’s never do that again,” Ford said as he turned to look at Stan.

Stan closed his eyes and nodded. “Agreed.”

 

* * *

 

Stan’s stomach churned every time he thought about what Ford had told him. All they did was sit in front of the TV for the rest of the day, but every time he looked over at Ford, his mind conjured images of his twin on the school’s bathroom floor, bloody and beaten. He’d known before that Ford had been attacked, but now his imagination had a starting point to work with to create more realistic scenarios.

So, every time this happened, Stan grabbed Ford’s hand, to remind himself that his brother was safe. Nothing like that was ever going to happen again. Stan wouldn’t let it.

Lucy was back a little after lunch. Her appointment must have gone well because she couldn’t stop smiling and kissed both of them on the crown of their heads in greeting. Then Shermie returned soon after. He started out grumbling about the car but when Lucy kissed him deeply to welcome him home his mood lightened considerably. Things were beginning to feel normal again.

Their whole family worked on making dinner together. Stan and Ford threw flour at each other as they made dough for chicken and dumplings. Lucy laughed and wiped some of the flour from Shermie’s chin, then gave him a peck on the lips.

Once they were all sitting down to eat, they were all comfortably chatting about plans to put in a vegetable garden. “We could put it near the back door,” Shermie said as he pointed behind him toward the door in question. “Maybe to the left and out a bit from the wall.”

“Oh, no, we can’t put it there,” Lucy said shaking her head.

“Why not?” all three brothers said at the same time.

She smiled and set down her fork. “Because that’s where we’re going to build the nursery.”

Stan turned to look at Ford, who looked back at him with wide eyes. Then they turned to Shermie. Their older brother chuckled and took a sip of water before saying. “But that’s a way’s off. We aren’t planning on any kids for at least another couple of years.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow at him and slowly shook her head. “Try six months.”

Shermie sat there in a stunned silence, until Stan reached over and thumped him on the back. “Congratulations, you two rascals!”

“A- a baby?” Shermie asked in disbelief.

She reached over and put a hand on the side of his face. “Yeah, a baby. I found out for sure today.”

Then Shermie was smiling and tears started running down his face.

Stan took a deep breath and grabbed his plate. He looked over to silently tell Ford to do the same but his twin had already grabbed his own plate and gotten to his feet. “We’ll give you two some privacy,” Ford announced beating Stan to the punch.

They both took their dinner to their room and sat on the floor across from each other to eat. “We’re getting a niece or a nephew!” Stan said excitedly through a mouthful of chicken and dumpling. “Or both!”

Ford didn’t say anything for a long moment. Stan began to worry that Ford wasn’t as excited as he was, or worse, may be upset about it. But then he looked up with a small smile. “When they get old enough, we can take them to see the plaidypus,” he said softly.

“Or take them to go throw things in the bottomless pit!” Stan added. “Or we can fight off gnomes together.”

Ford put a thoughtful finger to his chin. “There’s still so much for us to explore before they would be old enough to experience it all. I’m going to have to start writing it down.” He paused and tipped his head curiously. “Where do you think all this weird stuff comes from anyways?”

 

 

Above the Pines twins, there was an eye shaped knot in the wood of the ceiling that appeared to be watching them all too closely. In fact, a yellow triangle was currently observing them through it from his home in the Nightmare Realm. He laughed cruelly and twisted the top part of his body as if he was shaking his head. “Well, isn’t this sweet. You think that all of this will last?” he asked as if the children could hear him. “It won’t, Sixer. You’re going to destroy everything you love. And once the smoke clears you won’t even be able to recognize yourself anymore. It’s going to be HILARIOUS!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end of the first part of the story. Chapter ten will be taking us into part 2 which starts the Bill arc. Buckle up, cause this is where everything changes!


	10. Two Birthday Cakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Ford have a birthday party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm sorry that it took so long for me to post this. I was sick and then I was dealing with family stuff and with school. My posting is going to be a little erratic since my life is still a little unpredictable right now. I have the first drafts of the next few chapters written but the revising may take a little bit. I hope that you guys enjoy the chapter, this is where we are getting into the Bill arc!

Ford studied Lizzie’s face, watching for any sign of uncertainty. She kept her face schooled into a neutral expression, giving Ford no clues as to her hand. Then she reached up and tugged at one of her braids. Ford smirked. “You’re bluffing,” he said smugly. “I’m going all in.” He dropped his whole bag of jelly beans and ten dollars in cash into the middle of the treehouse floor.

With a sigh, Stan put down his cards and turned to look out the door of the treehouse toward the bed and breakfast even though he couldn’t see it. “I fold.”

Ford frowned and looked down at the pot in the middle. “But she’s bluffing. Why would you fold?”

“She’s not bluffing. Look at how she’s sitting. She hunches over like she’s protecting her cards when she has a really good hand.”

Lizzie threw down her cards and laughed. “Read ‘em and weep, Poindexter.” She reached into the middle and pulled the pile of money, candy, and plastic Leprecorn gold toward her.

“No more of this trying to ‘read people’ crap,” Ford declared. “Next time I’m counting cards and neither of you can stop me.” He turned to his twin, expecting Stan to make a joke about corrupting him.

“Yeah, fine,” Stan said, waving him off.

“What’s up with you?” Lizzie asked as she counted out the cash and change. “It’s your birthday, shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, happy?”

Stan suddenly got to his feet and started pacing around the treehouse. “I would be, but we’re stuck here while Shermie sets up our surprise. I need to know what it is. I can’t wait any longer!”

Ford couldn’t help but roll his eyes. It had been like that all morning. Shermie had woken them up early and sent them over to the Corduroys, stating that he needed to get their surprise ready. Stan wasn’t having it though. He kept asking what the surprise was, until Shermie finally told him that if he asked again, they weren’t going to get anything. Ford on the other hand was perfectly content to wait. He was excited, but if he let himself get worked up, the excitement would shift into anxiety as seemed to be happening with Stan.

“Lee, you need to calm down. Try those meditation techniques that I found in that library book.”

“No way.” Stan crossed his arms over his chest. “They’re silly. Trying to ‘clear your mind’ like some hippie ain’t gonna do nothin’.”

“Your grammar is atrocious and it’s not silly,” Ford snapped. It seemed as their relationship got closer and closer to how it used to be, the more comfortable they became disagreeing with each other again. Stan was more willing to oppose him and Ford’s own stubbornness reared its head. He took a deep steadying breath. Ford didn’t want to fight with his brother, especially on their birthday. “It helps _me_.”

“Sorry,” Stan said rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I don’t like the meditating thing. Okay?”

“My dad punches trees,” Lizzie suddenly piped up. “When he gets upset or anything, he just goes outside and punches a tree.” She mimed the motion of punching the wall of the treehouse.

Stan put a finger to his chin, seeming to contemplate the idea. Then with a shrug he said, “Let’s go punch a tree.”

Ford was surprised that his twin liked the idea, but he wasn’t going to discourage it. This development was a nice distraction from the constant questioning of what the surprise was. They all climbed down, out of the tree house and Lizzie directed them toward the punching tree.

It was a little before lunch time when Mr. and Mrs. Corduroy piled all of the kids into the station wagon to take them to Stan and Ford’s birthday party. Soon after they got on the road Mr. Corduroy took a turn going away from the direction of the Pines Bed and Breakfast. Stan and Ford spoke up at the same time. “Our home’s the other way.”

“I know,” he said smiling at them in the rearview mirror. “But your brother told us that your party is being held elsewhere.”

“Did you know about this?” Stan asked Lizzie accusingly.

She looked away and shrugged innocently. “Maybe.”

“Then where are we going? Is this the surprise? Are we going to Disneyland?”

“We have been sworn to secrecy, Stanley,” Mrs. Corduroy cut in. She turned around in her seat and made a motion as if locking her mouth and throwing away the key. “Sorry.”

Stan leaned over and whispered to Lizzie. “I will pay you to tell me where we’re going.” He was only half joking as he tried to remember how much money he had left after their poker game.

“It’ll all be okay,” she replied taking his hand in hers. She squeezed it and he blushed at the contact. “You’ll like it. I promise.”

Stan didn’t have the heart to tell her that he wasn’t worried whether or not he would like it. He just wanted to know what it was already. All the waiting around was causing him to be pent up with nervous energy that he didn’t know what to do with.

Holding Lizzie’s hand was a good distraction though. He tried not to squeeze it too hard. He didn’t want to scare her off. But, then, he worried that his hand would get all sweaty. Should he let go before then, or would she think that he was rejecting her?

He could see Ford watching them out of the corner of his eye and turned his head a bit more to see that he was giving Stan a knowing smile. It was infuriating, but also comforting to see. It was more evidence that Ford was making progress toward becoming his nerdy, annoying brother again, instead of the big ball of anxiety he had become after the incident.

It was ten minutes later that Stan realized where it was the Corduroys were taking them. They passed a sign that read “Gravity Falls Lake” and underneath it “Next Right”. “Is our party at the lake?” Stan asked, bouncing in his seat. He completely forgot about holding Lizzie’s hand and released it as he leaned forward on the back of Mrs. Corduroy’s seat. “Come on. I won’t tell Shermie if you tell me.”

“Stanley Pines,” she said in what both Stan and Ford had come to recognize as her no-nonsense voice. “Sit back in your seat. I will not have any horse play in this car.”

Stan sat back as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Why won’t anyone fucking tell me-”

“Do I need to wash your mouth out with soap? I will turn this car around if you don’t stop using that kind of language, mister.”

He sighed, realizing that if he pushed too much, he would end up never finding out what the surprise was. “Sorry, Mrs. Corduroy,” he grumbled.

He felt trembling on either side of him and looked over to see that both Ford and Lizzie were struggling to hold back laughter. Even Charlie was trying not to smile. “Laugh it up, you traitors,” he hissed at them.

 

* * *

 

Soon enough Mr. Corduroy was parking the car near the bait and tackle shop. Stan turned to look out the back window. He could see the party being set up at the picnic area. Balloons were tied to the tables and gifts were being stacked on the surface of the one with yellow balloons. There were several classmates that they had become acquainted with standing around talking. They were made up of the few peers who were too curious to be afraid of Stan and nerds who had been impressed by Ford’s academic achievements.

Lucy was placing candles on the two cakes that were set out on a table with blue balloons tied to it. She had only recently been starting to show her baby bump. At first he thought it was kind of cool but after the first time she had Stan feel the baby kick, he decided that it was too weird. He refused to ever touch it again.

Everyone was getting out of the station wagon, and Stan followed, having to wait awkwardly for Jessie, who refused to let anyone help her out of the car. “Come on, kid,” he urged. “Let’s get this show on the road, before I’m turning sixty.”

Jessie finally hopped down, then turned to stick her tongue out at him. “I’m practicing my big girl skills,” she explained as if he didn’t understand.

Stan raised an eyebrow at her as he got out. He was about to tell her that he didn’t care but stopped short when something caught his eye. Shermie was standing next to another car, talking to the people inside. Stan wasn’t sure why but his stomach twisted with anxiety. He stepped to the side to allow room for Ford to get out, but didn’t take his eyes off of the other car.

“What’s going on?” Ford asked after stopping beside him.

“Do you know who Shermie is talking to?”

There was a short pause then Ford shook his head. “No. I don’t recognize the car.”

He looked to Lizzie. “You?”

She shook her head as she grabbed Jessie’s hand and pulled her back from running toward the lake. “I don’t recognize it either.”

Stan frowned as he turned his attention back to Shermie and the mysterious car. Then his older brother was helping someone out of the passenger seat. It was their mom. She wasn’t wearing her signature red dress. Instead it was jeans and a casual red blouse, that fit the setting of being at the lake.

Stan felt an ache that made him want to run to her. A sharp intake of breath came from beside him. Ford had spotted her too.

Then the driver’s side door opened. Filbrick Pines stepped out, still in his very same checkered suit, fedora, and sunglasses. The ache was joined by a sinking feeling in his gut. It was strange for Stan, realizing that he hadn’t felt the familiar inferiority that he felt around his father in over a month. He hadn’t noticed it was gone until it returned in that moment upon seeing Filbrick.

This couldn’t possibly be the surprise. Shermie wouldn’t do that to him, would he?

“Do you know those people?” Lizzie asked in response the their reactions.

“Those are our parents,” Ford replied while Stan was still trying to come to terms with the fact that their dad was there.

Stan opened his mouth to ask Ford if he knew anything about this, when their mother saw them. A huge, relieved smile lit up her face at the sight of them. Ford gave in to the impulse that Stan had fought and went running to meet their mom in a hug.

Filbrick had his arms crossed as he watched the scene. Then he looked up and met Stan’s eyes. Stan automatically straightened his posture. He could feel Lizzie watching from beside him. He felt exposed with her seeing him under his father’s scrutiny. It was like Filbrick had removed all of his top layers, made up of his confidence and personality, all that was left were his insecurities.

Without a word to any of the Corduroy family he followed Stanford’s lead and slowly started over to his family. Halfway there, Shermie ran to meet him. He walked with him the rest of the way, telling him in a low voice, “I’m sorry, Stan, I didn’t know they were coming. If I had, I would have warned you.”

That was some consolation to Stan. At least he knew that his parents weren’t the surprise. There was some better gift waiting for him other than his dad showing up out of the blue.

By the time they made it to their parents’ rental car, Ford had finished hugging their mom and had moved on to shaking their dad’s hand in greeting. Filbrick reached over and patted Ford’s head, the most affection Stan had ever seen him show. Ford smiled widely at the simple but surprising gesture from their dad.

Stan felt something like a stab of jealousy or betrayal, he wasn’t sure which, go through him at the sight. It was softened by their mother suddenly pulling him into a warm hug. He wasn’t certain what had hurt more, seeing how much more their dad loved Ford, or seeing how much Ford enjoyed the attention.

“Oh, my sweet baby boy,” Caryn was saying in his ear. “I missed you so much.” She then leaned down and planted kisses all over his face.

“Come on, Ma,” he said leaning away, but not completely out of reach. “Not where my friends can see.”

“You’ve grown so much,” she said with a sigh. “You’re so tall now, the both of you. And you’ve got friends!”

The amount of excitement in the statement made Stan’s smile strain a bit. The fact that other kids would want to associate with them was such an unfamiliar concept to his mother. “Yeah!” he tried to keep a lightness in his voice. “I’ll introduce you to our best friend.” Stan grabbed his mother’s hand and started leading her to where the Corduroys were now setting themselves up at one of the picnic tables. “She’s over here. Her name’s Lizzie and-”

“Not even a ‘hello’ for your father?”

Stan stopped short, ice running through him. He’d forgotten. He let go of Caryn’s hand and turned back to their dad. “Sorry, Pops- I mean, sir!” He kept slipping up. Why couldn’t he do anything right?

Filbrick reached for a handshake and Stan reciprocated. One firm shake, then it was released, no head pat. No, apparently that kind of affection was reserved only for the son who wasn’t a disappointment.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Stan looked over to see that it was Shermie. The supportive gesture gave him another strange realization: Shermie was becoming more of a father to him than their actual dad. The guilt over that thought weighed more heavily on his shoulders than his older brother’s hand.

“Let’s go join the party,” Shermie suggested.

 

* * *

 

The party was going better than Shermie thought it would. With their parents showing up without announcement he had thought it would be a disaster. But he was relieved to see that Stan seemed to be doing an outstanding job of ignoring their father’s presence. Ford hadn’t seemed bothered by it at all. Shermie hoped both were true and not just his younger brothers putting on a show for everyone else’s benefit.

After lunch, the kids were playing down by the lake before cake and presents. Lucy, Shermie, Caryn, and a couple of the moms who had stayed for the party were cleaning up the trash from their barbecue while the dads who had stayed were chatting with Filbrick off to the side. Shermie could feel his dad’s disappointed glances but pointedly ignored them.

When the last of the used paper plates and dirty napkins were in the trashcan, Caryn pulled Shermie away to speak with him. “Sherman, there’s something I need to tell you,” she said in her serious voice. It was when she used this voice that he knew he could trust whatever words came out of her mouth were the honest-to-God truth. He liked when she used this voice.

“What is it, Ma?”

She hesitated, then swallowed hard and began slowly. “The only way we could afford to come out here was that your father finally sold that diamond jewelry set. You know, the one that’s been sitting in the pawn shop for years.”

“I remember. How’d he manage that?” His dad had taken it as a challenge to sell that set in a place like Glass Shard Beach. No one around there could even dream of affording something like that.

With a wry smile she replied, “Luck. Rich tourists happened to be passing through. Guy wanted to get it as a surprise for his fiancée. Your father didn’t even have to talk him into it.”

“That’s great. Maybe you two can finally take that trip to Hawaii you’ve always talked about.” Shermie was genuinely happy for them. Caryn deserved something nice after all that she’s put up with through the years.

She laughed. It sounded bitter and Shermie turned to her in concern. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. Your father wanted to use the money to pay to send Stan and Ford to military school, said it might toughen them up.”

“That’s insane,” Shermie hissed, barely keeping himself from raising his voice in shock. “You can’t let him do that. After everything they’ve been through… military school is the last thing they need. I won’t let it happen!”

She put a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, hon,” she said calmly. “It’s not going to happen. Filbrick and I argued about it. Long story short…” She heaved a heavy sigh. “We’re getting a divorce.”

“What?” All of this startling news was sure to give him whiplash. He had never seen his parents as the type to even consider something as drastic as divorce. But he hadn’t lived at home in years. Obviously, something had changed in that time.

“He wanted Stanford to still come stay with him during summers. I told him it was either both of them or neither. I won’t have him playing favorites with them. Not like that. He… he decided neither. But only as long as that meant he doesn’t pay for them either.” She bit down hard on her lip before continuing. “That means I have to save up before I can leave. I’ll need your help, Sherman. I know I’m asking a lot of you, and you have a baby on the way, but I can’t take care of your brothers on my own. If you can’t, I- I can try to keep Filbrick from trying to-”

“Ma,” he cut her off, voice thick with emotion. He wasn’t going to leave her living with a man who was trying to take her younger sons away from her. “Lucy and I are doing just fine financially. We can keep Stan and Ford with us until your ready. We may need help with the tickets back to Jersey, but-”

“I want to move here,” she said suddenly. There was silence for a moment as they both absorbed the meaning of her statement. “They’re happy here. I don’t need to be psychic to see that.” She gestured to where the kids were running around by the shore of the lake. “Maybe I can start over too.” The last sentence was said so quietly Shermie wasn’t sure he was meant to hear it.

 

* * *

 

So far thirteen was the best birthday Ford had ever had. They had actual friends at their party. And their peers were there because they _wanted_ to be and not just because their parents were making them. They played games like tag and hide-and-go-seek with more than just him and Stan. Then they all got distracted splashing each other with water from the lake. While they all played like they weren’t too old for kids’ games yet, Ford forgot that there had ever been a time before Gravity Falls.

Time for cake and presents came. As had been a tradition from their first birthday, they had two cakes. Stan got chocolate and Ford got strawberry. Lizzie insisted that she needed to have a piece from each so that she could tell them which was better. In the end she decided she needed another from each cause they were both so good.

Opening presents went by in a blur of books, action figures, and new boxing gloves for each of them. Shermie and Lucy’s presents for them were last. Ford opened his first. It was a book sized box wrapped in blue wrapping paper that had pictures of cartoon birthday cakes and the words “Happy Birthday” printed across it in a pattern.

He carefully tore the tape and unfolded the paper, like he did with every gift, to reveal a white box. He pulled off the lid and inside was a dark red journal. His fingers reverently ran over the cover as he lifted it out of the box. It was beautiful, much nicer than any other journal he’d written in before. He looked up at Shermie and Lucy as if to ask whether they were sure they wanted give him something that looked so expensive. They were both beaming at him, their expressions making him believe that they truly wanted give him something as nice as the journal he was holding. “Thank you,” he said, breathless with wonder.

Stan’s present came in a small box wrapped in paper that had a sailboat print on it. He didn’t bother preserving the paper, instead he just ripped it off. Ford watched closely as his twin removed the lid. There was a small wad of tissue paper inside to protect whatever the gift was. Stan pulled the paper out and dropped it on the ground. A quiet gasp passed his lips before he pulled out… a compass. It had a glimmering silver casing and something engraved on the back that Ford couldn’t read from the way Stan was holding it.

“Thanks, guys,” Stan said thickly. “This is… this is really great.” He then wiped at his eyes while muttering about his allergies.

Shermie glanced down at his watch and suddenly his demeanor turned urgent. “There is one more gift for you guys.”

“There’s more?” Stan asked in disbelief. Ford was just as perplexed.

Shermie laughed  then announced to the guests. “We need to move this party down by the lake for this next part.” Everyone followed his direction and moved rather efficiently to the lakeside.

Ford turned to his twin once they stopped at the shore. “That’s a beautiful compass,” he commented, pointing to the object still gripped in Stan’s hand. “What does it say on the back?”

There was a moment of hesitation in which Stan held the compass to his chest. Ford saw the warring emotions on his brother’s face and realized his error. “You don’t have to tell me,” he corrected quickly. “It’s okay if you want to keep it private.”

Stan looked down at the compass then held it out to Ford. “Here. You can look if you want.”

In return, Ford held out the journal to Stan and they exchanged presents for the moment. Ford examined the face of the compass, his thumb running over the glass. Then he glanced at Stan to ensure that he indeed had permission to look at the inscription on the back. His twin was absently flipping through the blank, sturdy pages of the journal. Upon feeling Ford’s gaze, he looked up and nodded his permission. Ford turned over the compass and read the engraving. _“Stanley, may you have many adventures and always be guided back home. Love, Shermie and Lucy”_

Ford smiled at the note. _“Home”. This is home now._ He ran a finger over the letters, wanting to memorize how the word felt. He jumped at the sound of the journal snapping shut and looked up.

Stan held out the book to him. “Sorry. You have a note too, in the back. I didn’t want to read it before you had the chance.”

Ford took his journal back and returned the compass to Stan. Part of him felt relieved that Shermie and Lucy thought to leave a note for him too. He didn’t exactly feel jealous, but there had been this little empty feeling that they had written something so private for Stan but not for him. But here it was. He flipped to the back and recognized Lucy’s looping penmanship. _“Stanford, may you fill these pages with not only your adventures and mysteries, but also your hopes and dreams. And know that your family is always here when you need them. We will love and support you through it all. Love, Shermie and Lucy”_

Ford looked over to where Shermie was talking excitedly to Lucy and their parents. Maybe being psychic did run in their family like his mother always claimed, because how else did they know exactly what words would make him feel so warm and accepted. _Shermie and Lucy are going to make great parents._

“Here it is!” Shermie suddenly called out.

A truck driven by Mr. Corduroy turned down the road to the lake. Ford hadn’t even noticed the large, ginger man leave the party. A trailer was being pulled behind the truck. On it was a large object covered in an even larger tarp.

The truck pulled up right on the shore of the lake. Once it parked, Shermie came running over and grabbed Stan and Ford’s arms. “Come on!” He pulled them over to the trailer, left them a few feet away from it, then approached it alone. With one hand on the tarp he turned back to his brothers and the rest of the party. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, somehow more excited than everyone else there put together. “You guys ready?”

“No way!” Stan replied sarcastically. “I’ve just been waiting all day for this surprise!”

“Wait no longer!” Shermie shot back. He reached up and pulled at a rope holding the tarp in place. The tarp fell away to reveal a small sailboat, big enough for two or three people.

Ford was certain that he had to be dreaming. The whole birthday had to be a dream. There was no way that he could actually be this happy in real life. Good things, like this, were not supposed to happen to him.

He turned to Stan. His brother had his hands in his hair, mouth agape in shock at the sight. “Is this real?” Stan asked barely above a whisper.

Ford pinched himself on the arm and blinked hard. The boat was still there on the trailer, Shermie standing beside it, grinning proudly. “I think it is.”

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day was spent on the boat. Stan and Ford didn’t go too far out. There hadn’t been much daylight left by the time they got the boat in the water. Most of it was just the two of them, but then for the last hour or so, they brought Lizzie aboard.

The sun was setting when they disembarked for the final time. Stan held out a hand to help Ford step onto the dock, then did the same for Lizzie. Except, she didn’t let go, once she was safely on solid ground.

“Do you think we can go talk… in private?” she asked hesitantly. She glanced around eyeing the nearby straggling guests chatting with the rest of the Pines family, and Ford talking animatedly to the other Corduroy kids as he gestured toward the boat.

“Uh, sure,” Stan said with a shrug.

As Lizzie led him away toward the nearby woods, he was all too aware of the fact that she still hadn’t released his hand. Ford had accused him of having a crush on her. He tried to see what reasoning his twin was using to come to such a conclusion. Sure, he cared about his appearance when he knew he would see her, but was it so weird that he wanted to be presentable? He cared about what she thought, but she was his best friend after all. But then there were things that he couldn’t make excuses for, like the way his heart sped up when she smiled at him, or how happy he was to be holding her hand.

Stan had to admit it… he had a crush on Lizzie Corduroy. Did he have to tell her? Was that the next step, to confess to her? He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

They stopped next to a tree. The lake was still in view, but they were far enough away that no one would overhear their conversation. She released his hand and he had to fight the impulse to grab on again.

If he told her, that might ruin their friendship. She could say no and then it would be too awkward to be around each other anymore. He wouldn’t have just lost himself the only friend he’d ever had but also lost that for Ford. That decided it. He had to keep the crush under wraps for both their sakes.

Lizzie took a deep breath and tugged at one of her braids. “I wanted to tell you something important,” she began. “After I stopped being friends with Chris, I didn’t think I’d ever become so close to anyone again.” She spoke in a low voice like she was still afraid someone else would hear. “I mean, there are a few people I hang out with but no one that I really _clicked_ with. Then I met you and everything just… made sense again. I’m really glad I met you, Stan.”

He wanted to tell her. He wanted so badly to blurt it out _“I like you.”_ But he couldn’t take that risk. If he pushed her away with a confession like that he didn’t know if he’d ever find someone like her again. “I’m glad I met you too.”

“But, I don’t think I want to be just friends anymore.”

Stan felt like everything around him froze. The world was just as on edge as he was, waiting for Lizzie to explain what she meant. _Could this really mean what I think it means? Can I really be this lucky? Good things like this don’t happen to me. She has to be meaning something else._

A blush was rising in her cheeks. She cleared her throat and looked away for a moment toward the lake. She turned her gaze back on him again. “Do you want to be boyfriend and girlfriend?” she asked pointing to him and then herself.

“Yes!” It came out before he could stop it. _Way to sound desperate, Stan._ “I mean,” He cleared his throat and tried to sound more casual. “Yeah, that sounds cool and stuff.”

Lizzie grinned and leaned in. She was suddenly really, _really_ close. Was she going to- Her lips pressed against his. It was soft, and gentle, and over too quickly. Then they stood there, smiling at each other, neither able to speak, but understanding that they were both undeniably happy.

 

* * *

 

Three years later…

Their sixteenth birthday had been one to remember. A party with all of their friends and family, except for their father, which was just fine with Stan. It had taken place at the lake, just like their thirteenth. But, this time it was more relaxed, not just because their father was not in attendance. This time around, there was no apprehension about him and Lizzie. She was his girlfriend, had been for the past three years, with one brief breakup over him refusing to share some chili cheese fries with her. The other reason there wasn’t as much tension in the air was the way his worry over Ford had eased in the past three years. They’d both grown and while neither of them would ever forget the reason they had come to Gravity Falls, it had faded into a bad memory that they kept in the distant past.

The party had gradually wound down to an end. Stan could look out from the Stan O’ War II in the middle of the lake to the shore and see that most of the guests had left while he, Ford, Lizzie, and Chris had gone out for a celebratory trip on the water. They let the wind push them where it willed as they laid back and chatted about meaningless things. It was cramped now that they were teens and they had the added presence of Chris, but that didn’t stop them from piling in together, nearly on top of each other.

Stan couldn’t really pinpoint how it had happened but during freshman year of high school Chris had become their friend. After everything that had happened in seventh grade Chris had made more of an effort to stop causing trouble. He and Lizzie had started talking again and Stan had reluctantly hung out with him. Then that turned into Stan genuinely befriending him. Ford wasn’t fond of Chris, to say the least. He claimed that associating with Chris would end up coming back to bite them. But, Ford couldn’t come up with any actual reason to not have Chris join them on the occasional movie trip or monster hunt, so the friendship persisted.

“Shermie’s waving at us to come back,” Ford told Stan as he pointed to their older brother’s figure standing on the dock.

Stan sighed, disappointed that the trip was cut short but they brought the boat back to the shore. As the got their feet back on dry ground they could see that, everyone was cleaning up now that the party was over. Lucy was packing up the leftover cake while two and half year old Nicole claimed she was helping by licking utensils and pretending to feed frosting to her stuffed llama. Caryn was putting the last of the presents into the car, and Mrs. Corduroy was helping out with collecting trash along with Jessie and Little Danny.

Shermie opened his mouth to speak, but upon seeing Chris he seemed to change gears. “Oh, Chris, your Uncle Victor is here to pick you up,” he said as he gestured to an eerily cheerful man handing out pamphlets to anyone who was still trying to leave.

“Thanks, Mr. Pines,” Chris said with a sigh. He then grumbled under his breath. “Don’t know why dad couldn’t just get off the couch and come get me.” Then at a more audible volume he spoke to Stan, Ford, and Lizzie. “Bye, guys, I’ll see you later.”

As Chris walked over to his uncle, Shermie opened his mouth to continue speaking to Stan and Ford but was cut off by Chris’s panicked voice yelling. “Stop handing out pamphlets on grave plots! You’re being creepy, Uncle Vic!”

Shermie shook his head then said. “Ma wants to talk to you guys. She’s waiting by the car.”

“Is everything okay?” Ford asked, concern lacing his voice.

Shermie frowned in confusion. “Yeah. Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?” Their older brother seemed to be latching onto Ford’s worry. Stan sighed knowing that it was going to take Lucy the rest of the day to ensure him that there was nothing to worry about.

Ford shook his head and shrugged. “No reason. I’m just… just asking. Let’s go, Lee.”

Stan pressed a quick kiss to Lizzie’s cheek. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he assured her.

As they walked over to where their mother was waiting, Stan bumped his arm against Ford’s. “You okay, bro bro. Why are you getting Shermie all worked up?”

“It’s nothing,” he replied too quickly.

Stan frowned. This wasn’t right. He and Ford were supposed to tell each other everything. He thought that after everything they’d been through it was a given. But he also didn’t want to push. He knew that Ford would tell him when he was ready. That was how Ford was, and he would have to be patient, even if patience wasn’t exactly his specialty. “You can tell me when you’re ready then.” And probably not a moment sooner.

Ford’s eyes went wide. “I’m not-” he cut himself off when they came within hearing range of their mother.

She was digging through her purse for something. When Stan went to speak, she held up a finger to stop him. “One second, baby.”

He closed his mouth and let out a huff of frustration. Yeah, he wasn’t liking the having to “be patient” thing.

“Here we go,” she said finally as she pulled out two envelopes. “These are your birthday presents.”

They each took the one with their name on it and opened it. Stan just tore off the top while Ford carefully lifted the flap. Inside was a card with some sentimental stuff about how a mother and son have a special bond. It was what was stuck inside the card that was the most shocking. A crisp fifty-dollar bill for each of them.

“Ma, we can’t take this,” Ford said, having finished reading his card first. He tried to hand back his fifty dollars and the look on their mother’s face made Stan shove the money in his pocket, fearful of making the same mistake.

Caryn puffed up with indignation and shook her finger at Ford. “Stanford Pines, I am a grown woman and I can give my money to whoever the hell I want to. I want the both of you to be able to have a good time this summer and that’s what I can give you at the moment.”

Ford looked like he wanted to continue to protest but he put the money in his pocket. He swallowed hard, probably pushing down statements of how she needed the money more than they did.

Their mother had been living in one of the rooms of the bed and breakfast for the last several months. She’d managed to scrape together enough money to make the move to Oregon and lease space for a small shop, but that meant she didn’t have enough for a place to live in the beginning. In the last couple of weeks they’d found an affordable house for her to rent but they were still waiting on a move-in date.

“Thanks, Ma,” Ford told her with enough sincerity that Stan was pretty sure it made up for his rude attempt at giving the gift back.

“Yeah, thanks,” Stan echoed. They both went in for a hug at the same time and ended up in an embarrassing smoosh of limbs. Stan smirked and ruffled Ford’s hair, just because he could. His twin threw him a glare and Stan stuck his tongue out at him.

Caryn pulled back from the hug after a moment. “I have to get going. The landlord called this morning saying I could come get the keys.

“That’s great,” Stan and Ford said in accidental unison.

Their mother laughed but then she looked away nervously, before turning her gaze back on them. “Now that I’m finally getting my own place and actually moving in, if either of you… want to...” she trailed off with a frustrated huff.

Stan and Ford both stood up a bit straighter, their full attention on their mother. “What is it, Ma?” Stan asked after a moment.

“If either of you want to live with me, or even just sleep over, there is an extra room.” She must have seen the apprehension in their eyes because she smiled sadly and continued. “I know you’re both happy here with Shermie. I wouldn’t want you to move in with me just cause you think you have to. Forget I said anything.”

“It’s not that we don’t want-” Ford began, but his mom cut him off with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not some delicate flower, Stanford. I lived alone before your father came along and swept me off my feet, I can do it again. Besides, this way I can bring my many future lovers home without worrying about you two.”

“Oh, my God, Ma!” Stan exclaimed with a disgusted expression. Ford made an identical face but was obviously too horrified to comment. The thought of their mother having relations with men, especially the men of Gravity Falls was something that neither of them ever wanted to even consider.

Caryn waved off their outrage and walked to her car. Before she got in, she called out, “I’ll be home for dinner. See you then, my babies.”

“We’re not babies,” they both replied at the same time as they waved to her.

As she drove away, Stan shook his head. “I love Ma but sometimes I think she enjoys scarring us.” When he got no reply from Ford, he turned to see that his twin was looking out at the lake with a pensive expression on his face. This wasn’t the time to be patient. Whatever was going on with Ford, he needed to know. “What going on?” he asked softly as he put a hand on Ford’s arm.

“Do you ever feel like something bad is going to happen?” Ford asked suddenly.

Stan reflexively went to make a joke about how the ominous predictions was their mom’s department but he stopped himself. This wasn’t some set up for light-hearted banter. Something was seriously bothering his brother. “What do you mean?” he asked instead.

“I’ve been feeling like this all day. Like, there’s this dark cloud or aura surrounding me.” Ford turned to look at Stan and gave him a wry smile. “I’ve felt this before. Back a few weeks after we first moved here and I had that first really bad panic attack, that whole day I felt like something bad was going to happen.”

Stan patted Ford on the back and laughed, not knowing what else to do. “It’s just a-”

“Coincidence? Yeah, that’s what I’m hoping, but I can’t help but feel like this is bigger. It feels like this whole year is just… doomed.” Ford held out his hands, palms up, in the universal sign for being at a loss for words.

It was unnerving to Stan to see his brother so full of this foreboding depression on a day when they should be celebrating the very fact that they were alive. He turned to Ford and took a deep breath. “You can’t let something like this get you down, Sixer,” he said with conviction. “There’s no… what’s the word? Tangible? Yeah, there’s no tangible reason to worry about the year ahead. Look what we’ve been through already: bullies, gnomes, ghosts, that time my algebra textbook came to life and tried to eat us, dinosaurs, giant bats, and so many other things. This year, even if it’s worse than any other, which it won’t be, it ain’t going to beat us. We can get through it, cause wherever we go, we go together. Right?” He watched Ford expectantly, hoping that his lame speech helped at least a little.

The side of his twin’s mouth turned up in a reluctant half-smile. “Right,” Ford agreed. “As long as we’re together, we can get through anything.”

Stan grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “’Cause we’re Pines, goddammit!”

“Pines!” they repeated in unison.


	11. Antiques

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan forces Ford and a couple of Corduroys to go to an estate sale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note, in this version of Gravity Falls, the town in general does not have any issue with same-sex relationships. That is all.

Ford was still half asleep when he became aware of something hovering right next to his face. He started off thinking it was only part of his dream. In the dream he was walking through the woods, journal in hand. He thought maybe it was a fairy or even a large insect. As he slowly came to consciousness, the dream fading away as reality leaked in, the sensation stubbornly remained. He opened one eye and groaned in exasperation upon seeing his brother’s grinning face.

“Up and at ‘em, Sixer!” Stan announced, much too loudly.

Fighting the urge to shove his brother off the bunk’s ladder, Ford pulled the covers over his head to block out the world. “You’re the one who always complains about being woken up too early,” he said exasperatedly, voice muffled by the blanket.

Stan pulled the blankets back and raised an eyebrow at Ford. “So?”

 “ _So_ , stop being a hypocrite and let me sleep.” He yanked the blankets back into his control but stopped short of pulling them back over his head once more.

“No,” Stan answered simply. “Lizzie and Charlie are waiting for us outside. Get your lazy ass out of bed. We have somewhere to be.” He climbed back down the ladder and made to leave the room.

As tempted as he was to ignore his twin, he knew Stan would just keep bugging him until he gave in. It was his brother’s way. Stan was like a puppy, when he got excited about something, he clamped down and refused to let up. He was also difficult to toilet train if their mother was to be believed.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” he accused as he leaned over the head of the bunk to look down at his twin.

Stan turned back to wink at him. “Yup!”

* * *

 

 

Once they climbed into the station wagon, Charlie and Lizzie up front, while Stan and Ford sat in the back, Stan handed a slip of paper to Charlie. “That’s the address. We have to be there by seven sharp.” He was adamant that they couldn’t be late for whatever it was they were going to. Ford was a bit startled by how serious his twin had suddenly become. Stan wasn’t normally one to care much about being on time for anything.

Charlie looked at the paper, then scoffed. “This is two towns away, man! There is no way we’re getting there by seven.”

Stan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Not with that attitude.”

Charlie shook his head and put the car in drive. Stan sat back, obviously satisfied that their driver was still taking them. The eldest Corduroy turned to Lizzie. “Your boyfriend’s lucky he’s cute.”

Ford snorted when he saw Stan blush all the way down his neck. As they started toward the highway, Lizzie turned back in her seat to wink at Stan, but spoke to her brother. “Don’t even think of trying to steal him. I already have a claim.”

“I am feeling very objectified!” Stan announced indignantly. “Stanford, as my older twin brother, don’t you have anything to say about this?”

Ford shrugged, smirking at the amusing exchange. “They’re lumberjacks, Stanley. What do you expect me to do? I know my limitations.”

Stan crossed his arms over his chest and turned to gaze out the window in a pout. “Fine, don’t defend my honor. See if I take you on anymore impromptu out of town adventures.”

“You almost literally dragged me out of bed this morning.”

Stan turned back to stick his tongue out at him in reply, officially out of clever remarks.

Ford was finding that he actually didn’t mind Stan bringing him along. The trip was a welcome distraction and the socialization was more enjoyable than he had been anticipating. The foreboding from the previous day was fading, like his earlier dream. He was relaxing back into his “routine”, if you could call it that. Whatever the feeling meant, he wasn’t going to let it dictate the kind of year he had, or whether or not he would enjoy the present.

 

* * *

 

Stan stepped out of the car and took a deep breath. “You smell that?” he asked Ford as everyone else got out.

“Dust?” his twin replied eyeing the estate sale they had arrived at.

He rolled his eyes. Ford never was one to spot an opportunity. “No. That’s the smell of suckers just waiting to be ripped off. Now, I have something I’m looking for.” He pulled a twenty out of his wallet and handed it to his brother. “You go find a housewarming gift for Ma.”

Ford spluttered, looking somewhere between confused and offended. “I have my own money, Lee. I work at the B&B, the same as you do.”

“Really? Like how I was cleaning up after breakfast last week while you were flirting with that professor guy?” he asked as he nudged his brother with his elbow.

“I was not flirting!” Ford claimed defensively, voice cracking.

Stan had only been teasing but the way Ford’s ears turned bright red at the suggestion, made him want to push it further. He cleared his throat, adjusting his voice to sound like his twin. “‘How many PhD’s did you say you have?’” he mocked in an over exaggerated, breathy version of Ford’s voice.

“That professor was at least forty years old,” Ford shot back. “So, you are way off base if you are implying that I would…” he trailed off as he seemed to register Stan’s goofy smile. “You’re getting me back for that thing in the car, aren’t you?”

He nodded, unable to force the smile off of his face. He honestly thought Ford would have caught on quicker. At least he knew what Ford’s type was now, not that it wasn’t obvious before. Of course his nerdy brother would be into other nerds.

With a frustrated huff, Ford shoved the twenty in his pocket and walked off to look at a set of old books. As he left, Lizzie and Charlie came to stand beside Stan.

“Why’d you bring him, if you were just going to go to all that trouble to get him to leave?” Charlie asked.

Stan threw an arm around Lizzie’s shoulders as he spoke. “I don’t go anywhere without my bro bro, but he tends to have this annoying thing called ‘morals’,” he said using air quotes.

Lizzie shook her head and pushed his arm off. “Stanley Pines, if you steal something again, I’ll-”

Stan decided that for some reason he had a death wish and pulled another twenty out of his wallet. He handed it to his girlfriend with a playful smile. “How about you go get something for Jessie and Little Danny?”

She reached up and flicked him in the ear but still took the money. “Don’t get caught,” was all she said before walking away.

Stan took a deep breath, preparing himself for the mission ahead. “You have any scruples about taking some of this junk, Charlie?”

The older teen shrugged. “I’ve done worse.”

Stan decided not ask for clarification. The less he knew the better. There was never any telling when Mrs. Corduroy may come ask him about the things her kids got up to. It was always dangerous to get on that woman’s bad side.

“Alright. If you see any weird shit, take it.”

Stan had seen an advertisement for the estate sale in the newspaper and, after some investigating, found out that it was rumored that the house it was at was haunted. That was all he needed to hear in order to get him to come there. He had plans, big plans, and had saved up more than enough money, although it was always better to be able to save his cash for a rainy day.

He started by looking around outside first. There were some items laid out on tables while a man was directing people inside for larger items, like furniture. Stan was about to head in when he spotted the gate to the backyard was wide open. Curiosity getting the better of him he approached it to take a peek in the back.

As he got closer, he could hear the stereotypical salesman tone of someone trying to unload some merchandise. It was the way his dad would talk when he was trying to get rid of something that had been sitting around the shop for way too long.

“I think these would be perfect for your store. Think of them as mannequins with character,” a man’s voice said with a forced chuckle.

“I think we’ll pass,” a woman’s voice said, with thinly veiled irritation.

“I’ll give you a discount,” the man’s voice said a bit desperately. “Twenty-dollars each and I’ll even throw in that clock you were admiring inside.”

“Let’s go, dear,” another man’s voice said in a low voice.

Stan ducked behind a bush when he heard footsteps approaching. A middle aged couple walked through then headed for their car, parked on the street. After them an older man closed the gate behind him as he muttered angrily to himself.

Once they were out of sight Stan slipped through the gate and closed it behind him. He looked around for whatever it was the old man was trying to sell. The old guy may have been eager to get rid of it but “one man’s trash is another man’s money making gold mine” and all that. A few feet away stood an old shed that looked like the wooden roof was rotting away. The door hadn’t been latched properly and it looked like something was sticking out of it. It looked almost like a human hand.

He looked around to ensure no one was watching him and lightly pushed the door open with his foot. As he did so, he caught sight of a silhouette. He stumbled backward, preparing apologies that sat on the tip of his tongue. But the silhouette didn’t move or react to him at all.

_If there is a dead body in here… I’ll probably check the wallet then scream and run away. Yeah… I have no illusions about the kind of person I am._ Stan shrugged in agreement with his own thoughts.

He stepped up to the door once again and reached past the silhouette to pull on a cord hanging from the ceiling. A single, naked bulb lit up and illuminated the shed. He just barely bit back a scream. A crowd of… people (?) stood shoulder to shoulder in the shed. Only they weren’t really _people_. Stan knocked on the head of the one closest to the door. There was a dull thud. “Huh,” he said to himself as he touched the face of, what looked like, Sherlock Holmes. “Wax… I could use this.”

 

* * *

 

Ford was inside trying to decide between getting his mother a vase or a clock. Neither really screamed “Caryn Pines”. His mom was a difficult person to shop for. They were actually kind of similar when it came to liking unusual things. She had been thrilled when he got her a bust of a Medusa head for Mother’s Day when he was ten.

The vase was a plain light blue with little, pink flowers on it and the clock was carved wood with gold trim, and owls engraved into either side of the clock face. Both were “nice”, but neither was what he would like to get for his mom.

He was about to set the clock back down, when he heard a commotion from outside. “Thief!” someone shouted. “Stop them!” Ford ran outside praying that it wasn’t Stan they were referring to. Shermie would murder them both if he had to pick them up from a police station… again.

He exited the house just in time to see Stan slamming the back of the station wagon shut and Charlie turning on the engine. An older man was shuffling toward the car as he yelled, “You come back here! Those are each fifty dollars!”

With a sigh, Ford reached into his pocket for his wallet. It would be easier to just pay for whatever it was his twin had taken. Then Lizzie was running by, grabbing his arm. She dragged him along and he was forced to run if he didn’t want to end up face planting the driveway. They easily passed the old man running the estate sale and dove into the car.

“Gun it!” Lizzie ordered.

Charlie slammed on the accelerator and within seconds they were out of the neighborhood, driving back toward Gravity Falls. The eldest Corduroy whooped in celebration and Stan laughed in relief, while Lizzie wore an irritated expression. Ford joined her in glaring at the two delinquents. At least there was someone else in the car who was against the criminal activity. Though, he didn’t understand why she had prevented him from just paying-

“Stan, what was the one thing I asked you not to do?” she asked in a voice eerily similar to her mother’s.

“Get caught,” Stan replied with a sigh.

And now Ford understood. Lizzie wasn’t upset that they had committed a crime, just that they had done it badly. Was Ford the only responsible person in the car?

“And what did you do?” Lizzie continued.

“Got caught.”

“Let’s just hope no one got our license plate.”

Ford felt his eye twitch at the blatant disregard for the law. It wasn’t like he was a stickler for the rules, but his brother and his friends seemed to have absolutely no boundaries. He opened his mouth to voice such statements when he looked down and realized he was still holding the owl clock that he hadn’t paid for.

With a deep sigh he turned to look at Stan and Lizzie in the back seat (somehow, he had ended up in the front next to Charlie). “So,” he started in resignation. “What did you steal?”

Stan gestured to the several wax mannequins with the likenesses of historical figures, laying in the back. “Look at these guys! Aren’t they cool?”

“All of that for some wax figures?” Ford felt a bit like a hypocrite for wishing that Stan had at least stolen something more interesting.

Stan didn’t seem bothered by his twin’s lack of enthusiasm. “This is only part one of the plan, Sixer. You’ll see soon enough.”

Ford was a naturally curious person but the certainty that it was going to turn out to be something like a prank Stan was going to pull on Shermie, made him just shake his head. “Sure, Stan.”

Lizzie suddenly cleared her throat, attracting the attention of all three boys. “So… Summerween is coming up fast,” she commented with a glance toward her brother.

“Yeah, it is!” Stan agreed, too enthusiastic about a made up holiday that he had considered lame the first time they had celebrated it. He had somehow caught on to whatever ulterior motive his girlfriend had, while Ford still felt like he was in the dark.

“No,” Charlie said forcefully. “You cannot come to my party. Do you know how lame it would look if I let my little sister, her boyfriend and her boyfriend’s twin brother come?”

“You would look like an awesome big brother!” Lizzie shot back as she leaned forward between the front seats. “Come on. You started throwing the Summerween parties when you were younger than us.”

“We’ve been waiting for forever to finally be able to go to one” Stan whined.

Ford sat back running his fingers over the owl carvings in the clock. He was actually kind of relieved that Charlie wasn’t letting them go to the party. If they were allowed then Stan would want him to come. Even though he wasn’t bullied at this school, he still wasn’t fond of spending time with most of their peers. It had been several years since seventh grade but everyone still knew him as “the kid who had the mental break down in middle school”. The times they had hung out with other kids had taught him that it would always come up, one way or another.

“Fine,” Charlie relented, causing Ford to take a sharp intake of breath. “You can come, but only if you all promise to be cool.”

“We promise!” Stan and Lizzie insisted.

“Ford?” Charlie glanced to him then back at the road. “You promise to be cool at the party?”

All eyes were on him. The foreboding feeling was sinking back in, like an icy chill. But this was what Stan wanted and there was no way his twin would go without him, no matter how much Ford would insist that he was fine with it. “Yeah,” he replied softly, as he gripped the clock in his hands tight enough to turn his knuckles white. He nodded, hoping that the physical movement would convince himself that it would be okay. “I’ll be cool.”

 


	12. Melted Wax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Ford fight Sherlock Holmes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone, I'm going to be trying to post more regularly, hopefully, like once a week. I'm excited about the upcoming chapters and want to make sure I get them out to you. If anyone is concerned or wondering when we are going to see Fiddleford or Bill, have no fear. Fiddleford will be appearing in chapter 13 and Bill will be coming soon! Yay!

Ford had given the clock to Stan to wrap and he was pleasantly surprised, when they got into the car, that it had been wrapped immaculately. The wrapping was sharp and precise, with the minimum amount of tape used. As they got on the road, Ford spoke up to praise the job well done. “That looks great, Stan.”

“Oh, thanks,” Stan said, clearing his throat nervously.

Ford smirked and met Shermie’s eyes in the rearview mirror. They both knew where this was going. “Where did you get the green paper? I didn’t think we had any.”

“You know… around.” He fidgeted with the wrapped box beside him, as if it mattered which way faced out.

“When did you buy ribbon?” Shermie asked nonchalantly. “Lucy said Nicole flushed all of the ribbon in our gift wrapping stuff down the toilet.”

Stan shrugged and flicked at the ribbon on the present. “I found the time.”

“Mrs. Corduroy wrapped it for you?” Ford more stated than asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“Yup,” Stan replied, popping the “p” at the end. “You know I’m shit at wrapping gifts. Lucy was busy and when I went to ask Lizzie, Mrs. Corduroy offered. So, I took her up on it. Is that such a crime? Huh?”

Stan was only playfully being defensive but Ford could sense some insecurity lurking underneath it. He reached over and lightly punched his twin’s shoulder. “Of course not, you knucklehead.” Stan smiled at him and they both relaxed into their seats.

 

Their mom’s new place was a small house in town with a little white picket fence around it. Stan liked that it looked homey. It eased the guilt of him and Ford letting her live there by herself. Plus they’d be over there all the time… when they weren’t hanging out with their friends, or in school, or doing homework, or exploring the paranormal weirdness of the town, or- Stan shook his head. _Stop. She knows that you both love her and you’ll spend time with her when you can. Besides she has her own business now. She’ll have that to keep her busy._

The three brothers walked through the gate and up the front porch. Shermie rang the doorbell and gave the door two knocks. They awkwardly stared at the front door as they waited for an answer.

“She knew we were coming, right?” Ford asked after waiting what felt like forever.

Shermie frowned as he reached for the doorbell again. “I told her we were coming by today to help unpack. She even said she’d get us a pizza.” After ringing the doorbell for the second time he knocked again.

“And we all know how you are about pizza,” Stan added as he adjusted his hold on the wrapped clock.

Shermie made an indignant sound. “I care about our mother just as much as you two do. Probably more! I’ve known her for longer. The pizza is just a bonus.”

The door suddenly opened before Stan or Ford could argue. Caryn patted the side of Shermie’s face. “I know you care about me, baby. You’ll always be my favorite oldest son.”

Shermie blushed and muttered something like “Thanks, Ma,” as they all entered the house.

The entryway went straight in the living room. A small couch and an end table were placed near the window that looked out onto the front yard, but there was no other furniture. Stan wasn’t surprised, it’s not like she was able to bring any of the furniture from their home in New Jersey with her. It only made him hate his dad more than he already did.

The adults in Stan and Ford’s lives had tried to hide from them just how heartless their father was being with the whole divorce thing, but they weren’t blind. They knew that their dad was sending their mom out to Oregon with nothing but the meager savings she had from her phone psychic business.

Stan had overheard Shermie and Lucy discuss how much they could spare to help Caryn move out there sooner. He knew taking money from them must have hurt his mother’s pride but once she was there, he’d heard her complain to Shermie about what a dick Filbrick had become. Stan wasn’t sure how his father could possibly be worse than he’d already known him to be but he was glad that his mom was out of there.

“Where do you want us to start?” Shermie asked.

Caryn wrung her hand in a nervous way as she looked around the room. “There’s not really much to unpack. The kitchen will probably take the longest. Fil, let me take most of the kitchenware because it was my mother’s to begin with.”

“How generous,” Stan muttered to himself. It must have been louder than he meant because suddenly his brothers’ and his mother’s eyes were on him.

“Stanley,” Caryn began in a tight voice. “The issues I have with Filbrick are between me and him. He’s not perfect but he’s still your father. Be respectful.”

“But-” Stan went to argue, but was stopped by Ford elbowing him lightly in the ribs. It wasn’t fair. They talked like Filbrick had accidentally spilt a glass of milk. Filbrick had done so much more to them. Stan looked back on how he’d struggled to get even a crumb of approval from the man and was disgusted with how hard he’d tried to impress him.

Shermie cleared his throat, and the awkwardness in the air faded. “Let’s start in the kitchen then.”

A few hours later they stopped for lunch and ordered the pizza Caryn had promised. “Eat up,” she said as she set the pizza box on the card table serving as the temporary kitchen table until she could get a proper one. “My big strong men have earned it.”

“I thought we were your babies,” Stan commented with a smirk as he grabbed the first slice.

“When I want kisses, you’re babies. When I need you to move stuff, you’re men.” She grabbed the slice of pizza out of his hands and sat down as she took a bite.

Stan frowned and picked up another slice as Shermie and Ford grabbed theirs. Ford smirked at the put out attitude that Stan wore on his sleeve.  Stan stuck his tongue out at him then took a bite. When he swallowed he said, “Hey, Ma. You haven’t opened the housewarming gift me and Sixer got ya.”

“Oh, right!” She set down the half eaten slice of pizza on her plate and went to wash her hands at the kitchen sink.

“‘Sixer and I’,” Ford corrected. Stan rolled his eyes and ignored him.

Caryn retrieved the gift from where it sat on the counter. She turned it over in her hands, admiring the wrapping. “It’s so beautifully wrapped, I feel kinda bad opening it.”

“Go for it, Ma!” Shermie encouraged in between bites of pizza.

“Hey, Poindexter,” Stan whispered to Ford as their mother began undoing the ribbon. “You never paid for that, did you?”

Ford threw him a glare. “I didn’t have time with us having to make a getaway,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

Caryn was unwrapping the paper now, revealing the white box beneath. “But you kept my twenty bucks.”

Ford’s eyes went wide as he tried to catch his attention, but he steadily ignored him in favor of watching their mother lift the lid of the box and pull out the clock inside.

“This is beautiful,” she told them as she studied it. She set the now empty box on the counter and turned the clock over in her hands. “I’ll have to put this in the living room. It would look nice on the end table for now.”

“Hey, Ma,” Stan said as he heard Ford hiss his name in warning. “Ya know, I don’t think I can stand by and keep Ford’s secret. I mean, the guilt is just eating me alive.”

“What do you mean, baby?” Caryn frowned in confusion, glancing from Stan to Ford and then back again.

Ford waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing! He means nothing by it. He’s just kidding. Right, Stan?” He gave Stan the most pleading look he could give.

Stan almost gave in and had mercy on him. Then he thought about being elbowed earlier, the smirk a couple of minutes ago, and the way Ford had corrected his grammar. He cleared his throat and turned to their mom. “Ford, stole the clock from a dead guy!” he blurted as he pointed at his twin accusingly.

“Stanford!” their mom said the name in a gasp of disappointment.

Shermie choked on a bite of his pizza while Stan did his best to hide his laughter. Caryn launched into a lecture about how she expected better from Ford and how he was setting a bad example for his twin and his niece. Stan struggled not to laugh harder at the implication that Ford could have a bad influence on him of all people.

Ford threw glares at him as Stan innocently finished off his first slice of pizza, then grabbed another.

 

* * *

 

It was several hours later that Stan insisted he had to get home. “I have a project I’m working on that needs my attention,” he said cryptically.

“I can drive you,” Shermie said. “I promised Lucy I’d be back by four. We’re having a special dinner for the guests.”

Ford could see his mom eyeing the bag of new curtains and box of shopping from the hardware store for fixing some things around the house. He knew that his mother was self-sufficient but he didn’t like the idea of her trying to finish the work off by herself. “I can stay and help, Ma.”

“Are you sure, baby?” she asked, voice full of concern. “Your arm isn’t hurting you?”

Unconsciously, he found himself bringing his right arm up to hold it against his middle. Everyone was watching him too closely for his liking. It had been three years, and while he got the occasional ache or sharp pain, it didn’t hurt the majority of the time. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “I’ll only help for another hour or two.”

That assurance seemed to satisfy his family. Stan and Shermie left while Caryn and Ford got started on hanging curtains.

 

Ford was feeling pensive after his arm had been brought up so abruptly. No matter what he did, that was what it always came back to. Stanford had been broken both literally and figuratively, and there was nothing he could do to cover up the scars and cracks. Everyone saw them and they all thought that they meant he was going to shatter all over again at any moment.

Throughout them hanging the curtains and completing a couple of other small projects, like putting down shelf paper or fixing the handle on the bathroom door, he was more quiet than normal. He dwelled on the thoughts about his arm, which led him down a spiral of thoughts that led to memories he’d rather not recall at the moment. His mom obviously noticed but was uncharacteristically tactful enough to not ask about where his head was at.

Dinner was a frozen, store-bought, chicken-mac & cheese casserole thrown in the oven. Ford tried to think of something to say after his mother served him and set the filled plates on the card table. She sat down across from him and looked at him expectantly, like she knew he was searching his brain for some sort of conversation.

“What’s going on, Stanford?” Caryn asked with a sigh. “You’ve barely said two words to me this whole evening. If this is about that lecture earlier, I know that Stan was just trying to tease you.”

Ford spluttered, distracted and perplexed. “What? Then why was I subjected to that fifteen minute lecture about not stealing from dead people.”

Caryn shrugged, a smile playing at her lips. “I need to keep you on your toes,” she said with a wink.

Ford smiled but didn’t laugh. “Thanks,” he said dryly. He rolled his eyes playfully and took a bite of his dinner. He thought as he chewed, unsure if he should tell her where his thoughts had drifted… the recent birthday party and the bad feeling. He didn’t want to worry her, but who better to talk to about such things than someone who’d been pretending to be a psychic for over twenty years. “On mine and Stan’s birthday I had this feeling… it felt like I knew something really bad will happen this year. I got the same feeling back in middle school, when I had that really bad panic attack that Shermie called you and dad about. I just wonder if that means-”

Caryn laughed and Ford bristled at the sound. He knew it sounded ridiculous. He wasn’t sure if he believed it himself, but it still stung.

“No, I’m sorry, baby,” she apologized at seeing that she had offended him. “I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just… honey, our family ain’t actually psychic. You have nothing to worry about. Sometimes a bad feeling is just a bad feeling. And these things are several years apart. You’ve had plenty of bad days and good days in between.”

Ford rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit silly for thinking that it had been a premonition. His mother had never shown any actual psychic ability so why should he think that he could suddenly predict when he was going to have a bad day or a bad year. Back in middle school he was probably just sensing that his own anxiety was heightened that day. And on his birthday, it was probably just that he was already on edge from having to be in such close proximity to Chris.

“You’re right,” he admitted as he scooped more mac & cheese onto his fork. “It was a ridiculous thought.”

 

Ford finished dinner and walked home as the summer sun set late in the evening. It was calming to stroll through town and down the familiar forest road to the bed and breakfast. There was no need to worry about getting jumped by bullies from school who decided they needed a summer reminder of what was to come during the school year. The only thing he had to watch out for was the odd gnome, who still wanted revenge, and now that he was no longer a scrawny twelve year old, they were a lot less threatening.

He walked up to the front door and was about to go in when he heard a crash come from around the side of the house. Ford frowned then followed the sound. As he passed the failed vegetable garden, that Lucy kept insisting she could bring back to life, he heard a loud snap then a curse. He picked up the pace and arrived just in time to see Stan dragging an old table through the cellar doors. Startled, his twin dropped the table and their was another loud crash as it fell down the stairs.

“Hey, Sixer,” Stan said with a forced nonchalance as he closed the cellar doors behind him. “What are you doing here?”

Ford was caught somewhere between amusement and bewilderment. His twin had turned into more of a mystery than he had anticipated. The apathy he had felt toward whatever Stan was doing was quickly turning into insatiable curiosity. He scratched the back of his neck and shrugged. “Well, I kind of live here, so…”

“That’s interesting,” Stan said, glancing distractedly back at the cellar door behind him. “I was just… putting in some mouse traps. Yeah. So, don’t go down there. There are mice… and traps. Pretty dangerous. Wouldn’t want to lose a finger.”

With the way Stan was desperate to shield whatever was in the cellar from prying eyes, Ford was certain it had to be something interesting at this point. Gravity Falls was full of anomalies and mysteries, but at that moment the only one he desperately wanted to discover was the one Stan was hiding from him.

“No worries,” Ford said as he wiggled his fingers at Stan. “I have more than enough to spare.”

Stan forced a laugh, then sobered abruptly. “Seriously, don’t go down there.”

Stan wasn’t about to let him pass unhindered, that was obvious. He could always come back later, or even see if Stan would be ready to show him sometime soon. He started to walk away toward the back door. Ford could let the whole interaction end there but he was still a bit peeved about the earlier lecture he’d had to endure.

Stan had begun to follow him inside, stepping away from the cellar doors. Fresh scratches and nicks littered the wood and gouges were dug into the dirt around it.

“If there are mice,” he said loudly as he took a step toward the cellar. “I should check it out. With all the Gravity Falls weirdness, there is a chance these aren’t ordinary pests.”

Stan rushed back to guard the cellar once again. “Already checked myself,” he insisted. “Very ordinary mice. I promise you. They are so boring. They just scurry around, eat cheese, squeak, the usual. Nothing interesting at all.”

“Still, I would like to see for myself.” Ford moved to step around Stan. He was enjoying the excuses that Stan was trying to come up with to keep him out. Then suddenly his brother was hugging him. Stan was clinging to him, face buried in his shoulder. “What? Lee?”

“Sorry,” Stan said awkwardly. “We… uh… we haven’t had a good, brotherly hug in a while. Lucy’s always sayin’ how it’s good to treasure family and shit like that.”

Stan was still holding onto him and Ford felt cruel to not return it. He wrapped his arms around his brother and rolled his eyes. It was too obvious that Stan was trying to distract him. He’d let it work this time, knowing that if he didn’t his brother might try something even more ridiculous to get him away from the cellar. “You’re a knucklehead,” he muttered.

Stan pulled away and grinned. “Love ya too, nerd.” With that Stan pulled him inside, talking about catching the end of some show about a genie and an astronaut. Ford didn’t pay much attention to television.

Ford spent the rest of the evening thinking about the cellar. Why had Stan been taking a table down there? And what had Stan done with the wax figures? He had insisted that they leave them in the storage room, but when Ford peeked in the day before, they were gone. His brother’s plan was an odd one, that was for sure.

 

* * *

 

In the middle of the night, Ford awoke with a start. He’d had a dream that he couldn’t quite remember. Images of a top hat and the color yellow stuck in his brain, but nothing more. Something told him that it was important but the memory of what that important thing was eluded him.

He glanced down at the clock: two o’clock in the morning. An idea sprung into his mind. He leaned over the side on his bunk to see Stan clinging to his pillow, eyes closed, mouth slack. This was his chance to take a look in the cellar unimpeded.

Ford stayed in his solar system themed pajama pants and gray t-shirt. He pulled on his sneakers but as he knelt to tie his laces he heard Stan shifting around in bed. He paused, staying stalk still, stuck kneeling, holding the laces in his fingers. He even held his breath not wanting to ruin everything just because he was breathing too loudly.

“Ford,” Stan muttered.

He waited, unsure if his twin was talking in his sleep. _Stay asleep, you knucklehead._

“Ford, the turtles… they’re wearing the party hats.” Stan then snored and rolled over, facing the wall.

Ford released the breath he had been holding, smiling in relief and amusement. He quickly finished tying his shoes, not bothering to take the time to double knot them, and got to his feet. He slipped out the door as silently as he could manage, then made his way outside.

Once at the cellar door, he found himself hesitating. Stan really didn’t want him going down there. If he went and his twin found out, Stan would be upset with him. Ford took a step back. And Stan kept saying he was going to tell Ford what was going on in the near future anyways. Another step back. He should probably just go back to bed.

With a sigh, Ford turned to head inside, but was stopped by what sounded like a shout that came from the cellar. He immediately went back to the cellar and pulled the door open. At this point there was no way Stan could blame him for wanting to check on things. It could be a robber, or vandals, or possibly some signature Gravity Falls paranormal creature.

As Ford cautiously made his way down the concrete steps, he heard a man’s voice speaking. A gasp caught in his throat and he swallowed it down, fearing that he may draw attention to himself. The sensible part of his brain told him to go back in the house and call the police. He paused midway down the stairs, debating whether to follow that sense or try to figure out what the owner of the voice was doing there in their cellar. The choice was made obvious to him as he listened in.

“So, Wax Abraham Lincoln, you will take out the twins. Wax Lizzie Borden, you can get the husband and wife,” the man spoke in a British accent. “Wax Genghis Khan, I’m trusting you to take out the pesky guests. I will get anyone who tries to escape. If we do this right, we should have the place to ourselves tomorrow night.”

There was a loud cheer then subsequent shushing. “I already told you all to quiet down,” the British voice said, irritation palpable. “Good lord, wax people, do you want to wake the whole town?”

“Sorry,” came a chorus of voices in a lower tone.

Ford swallowed hard and licked his lips. Were these really the wax figures Stan had stolen? They had somehow come to life and were… plotting a murder spree? He needed to go warn the others. Maybe he could find something to barricade the cellar door until they could make a plan. He could do this. _These are wax figures, not too hard to deal with… Right?_

He turned to go back up the stairs. As he moved to lift his right foot, it was pulled back down. He lurched forward. Both the stairs and the fact that he had just tripped over his own shoelace hit him. He let out an involuntary cry of pain as he threw out his right arm to catch himself and landed on it.

“What was that?” the British voice demanded.

_No, no, no!_ Ford scrambled to his feet, tucking his arm close to his torso. Pain was still radiating through it, making him have to take deep breaths through his nose to focus his thoughts elsewhere.

He had just reached for the cellar door when a hand clasped around his ankle in an iron-grip. It yanked him backwards down the stairs, knocking the wind out of him. He hit the floor of the basement with a particularly disorienting blow.

He coughed trying to draw in air as he reached for anything around him that he could use as a weapon. A splintered piece of the table Stan had been trying to bring down there earlier ended up in his grasp. He held onto it and pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the way his ribs protested. He brandished the piece of wood at the wax figures before him. _God, this is weird. Why did Stan have to steal living wax figures of all things?_

Wax Sherlock Holmes made his way to the front of the crowd. “Well, well, well, one of the twins. I take it that you heard our plan?”

“Would it make you want to kill my family less if I told you A Study in Scarlet is my favorite book?” Ford tried. His voice broke in the middle making his question sound like he actually meant it.

“While I am flattered,” Wax Sherlock Holmes said, putting a hand to his chest and smiling. Then the smile disappeared and his expression darkened. “No. Get him!”

 

* * *

 

Stan’s eyes blinked open and he wondered why he had woken up. He’d been having an excellent dream about twin turtles that he and Ford had adopted. They’d been celebrating the turtles’ birthday. He briefly pondered how expensive turtles would be.

Wait. Something about the room felt off. Stan rushed to jump out of bed and narrowly avoided smacking his head on the top bunk. He then turned to the ladder and pulled himself up just enough to look on top. The top bunk was empty, covers wrinkled and pushed into a pile against the wall.

_The knucklehead must be in the cellar. He was way too interested in it earlier not to be. I even gave the bastard a hug._ Stan put on the slippers that made him feel like an old man, but in a good way, and ran out the door.

He had his hand on the cellar door when he heard a crash from inside. He threw the door open, suddenly on high alert. Could Ford be hurt? There was yelling and he was acutely aware that someone else was down there with his brother, possibly hurting him.

Stan ran down the stairs to see his brother fighting… the wax figures? Even with all the weird things he had seen, it took him a moment for his brain to register what he was witnessing. Wax Lizzie Borden swung her axe at Ford and he ducked under the blade as it passed through where his neck had just been moments before. Either Stan was dreaming or he accidentally stole some magic voodoo wax dummies. Either way he needed to save his brother.

Stan grabbed an old rake with rusted prongs and swung it at Wax Abraham Lincoln who was sneaking up behind Ford. “Leave my brother alone, ya creepy-ass president!”

“Lee!” Ford exclaimed. Relief was present on his face for only a moment, before his eyes went wide, focusing on something behind Stan. “Watch out!”

Stan spun around to find Wax Genghis Khan bearing down on him. His grip tightened on the rake and he swung the handle at the wax figure’s head. The head went flying off and hit the opposite wall. “Home run!”

“Stop playing around!” Ford snapped as he stabbed Wax Lizzie Borden through the torso with his splintered piece of table. The wax figure gave no reaction that she even felt it. “We need to figure out how to get rid of them!”

Stan stuck out his foot to trip his opponent and turned to help Ford. The headless wax figure seemed too disoriented to continue being a threat.  “They’re made of wax, Stanford. They’re practically invincible!”

The way he saw it, they could continue on like this all night and the damned things would keep getting back up. Maybe they could lock them somewhere, but there would be no telling when they’d break free again and get their revenge.

Ford paused, biting his lip in thought. He was so distracted Stan had to fight off both Wax Lizzie Borden and Wax Abraham Lincoln by himself. “Any time you want to jump back in, bro,” he called out with an irritated growl.

Suddenly, Ford smacked himself in the forehead, startling Stan. “Of course! Stan, they are made of wax! Wax melts!”

The wax figures’ eyes widened in fear and he knew that Ford had touched on something worth pursuing. “So, we need to pull a Shermie. Gotcha.” Stan stepped back and pulled off his t-shirt. He quickly wrapped it around the prongs of the rake and pulled out his lighter.

“Why do you have a lighter in your pajamas?” Ford asked incredulously. He picked up a wrench off of a shelf and swung it at Wax Abraham Lincoln.

The t-shirt was smoldering but not quite catching yet. “It’s definitely not because I sneak outside for a smoke in the middle of the night.”

“I would know if you did that, Stanley! You never smell like smoke or tobacco.”

“I know. That’s why I said its definitely _not_ that.” Stan grinned when the shirt finally caught fire and gave a triumphant, “Ha!” He flipped it around and brandished it at the wax figures. He drove them all back into a corner, even Wax Genghis Khan, who had finally found his head. “That’s right! Melt, motherfuckers!”

“No! Please!” they shouted. “Have mercy!”

It didn’t take long for the wax to turn shiny as it shifted to a liquid state and start dripping. Stan cackled, riding a triumphant high of having defeated his opponents. _Good thing I didn’t pay for these._ “Hey, Ford, ya think I can make these into candles and sell them or something?” The figures were almost completely melted down now, forming one large puddle. His twin didn’t reply, not even to say something snarky. “Sixer?” he said, turning around.

Everything stopped. His vision seemed to narrow, only focusing on his brother’s terrified face and the axe at his throat. The fact that it was Wax Sherlock Holmes holding it there with a sneer on his face didn’t matter.

“Figured Wax Lizzie Borden would not be needing this any longer,” he said with an annoyingly posh accent. “Now, drop the torch, boy, or I’ll decapitate him.”

Without any thought the rake dropped from his hands and clattered on the cellar floor. “Let him go,” Stan ordered. The way Ford’s eyes had become unfocused and his jaw clenched made Stan wonder if his brother was still there or having a panic attack. He needed Ford at full alertness. “Hey, Poindexter, stay with me. Breathe.” Ford didn’t reply, but he blinked hard and met Stan’s eyes in a way that told him his twin was making an effort.

Wax Sherlock Holmes was backing up toward the stairs, holding the axe blade against Ford’s throat and dragging him along. “Let him go!” Stan said again, raising his voice.

“Oh, I will, once you have driven us to the edge of this dreadful town. Then you will give me your vehicle and I will leave.”

“What? No. You’ll let him go now!”

The axe blade was pressed harder against Ford’s throat, it wasn’t drawing blood yet, but the bluntness of the axe was no comfort. He picked up the rake again, but the fire that had been engulfing the shirt had gone out, leaving only burnt tatters hanging off of the prongs. He prayed this was only a nightmare. He had no idea what to do. If he drove Wax Sherlock Holmes to the edge of town, he would probably just kill them both. If he didn’t do it, the wax figure would kill Ford.

“What are you going to do with that, boy? Give me tetanus?” He laughed. It was cruel and sent chills down Stan’s spine.

“I- I…” he trailed off. His eyes darted around the cellar looking for some way out of this mess. He spotted the shelves Shermie stored his tools on, the boxes of weird junk he was going to use in his project, the shattered table that he had been trying to move down there earlier… The table that had smashed into the light switch on its way down! Stan’s gaze shifted to the light switch by the stairs, behind Holmes and Ford. The case had been pulled off the wall and left wiring dangerously exposed. Stan had been planning to fix it the next day. “I think,” Stan let his hands loosen on the rake, but didn’t drop it. He met Ford’s eyes and gave him a meaningful look. He hoped that it conveyed enough of his plan that his twin understood what he needed him to do. “I think that I’ll have to do what you want. Which car do you want to take? Lucy’s is roomier but Shermie’s gets better gas mileage.”

Holmes looked surprised, then smug. He hummed thoughtfully. “Well, we aren’t going too far. Just to the edge of town. But I wouldn’t want to be uncomfortable on our journey.” As the wax figure thought, the axe slowly lowered from its place at Ford’s throat.

Ford took advantage of that moment of distraction. He pushed away the arm holding the axe and dodged away from the wax figure holding him hostage. Holmes cried out in fury and started after the twins. Stan refused to allow Holmes to regain the upper hand. He struck out at the wax figure with the handle of the rake, pushing him toward the broken light switch. Wax Sherlock Holmes stumbled into the exposed wiring, with a strangled shout.

Starting from Holmes’ chest, the wax bubbled and charred. It dripped down as the hole grew bigger and bigger. Soon enough his entire torso was melting away as it sizzled and blackened.

“Curse you! Curse your whole family!” the wax figure cried out as he melted into a bubbling puddle.

Once he was certain that Holmes was as melted as that witch from The Wizard of Oz, Stan rushed over to Ford. “You okay, Sixer?” He held his twin by his upper arms and looked him over, taking extra care to examine his neck.

“I- I need to sit down.”

Stan pulled up a folding chair and sat Ford down on it. “Sorry, about the whole living wax figures trying to kill you thing. I really screwed up this time, didn’t I?” He forced out a wry laugh. His stupid project nearly got his twin decapitated.

Then Ford started laughing. Stan wasn’t sure if he should feel offended or concerned. “You okay there? You nearly got your head chopped off and you’re laughing about it.”

“I nearly got my head chopped off by _Sherlock Holmes_. That was weird even by Gravity Falls standards.”

Stan smiled but was still worried that it would hit Ford later that this was all Stan’s fault, like many things that went wrong in their lives. Even through three years of living in Gravity Falls that fact still remained. “None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t made us go to that estate sale or stolen the wax figures in the first place.”

“Oh, Stan, it’s not like you knew they were going to try to murder everyone and take over the B&B. It could have happened to anyone at that estate sale. I mean, that clock we got for Ma could turn out to be cursed for all we know.”

They both paused and looked at each other with wide eyes at the realization. “We need to get that clock tomorrow,” Stan said with a nod.

“But right now, we need to get some sleep,” Ford said as he got up.

Stan followed him up the stairs. He was grateful that Ford never seemed to hold anything against him. His twin seemed to always know what his intentions were. Sometimes it was hard to believe that a screw up like him got lucky enough to have a twin like Ford.

Ford stopped short before opening the cellar door. He turned to Stan who was right behind. “What is the secret project you’re working on down here anyways?”

Stan felt his face heat. He was so excited about it earlier but now he just wanted to forget he ever tried to make it a reality. “I was… I was going to take all the weird crap that we see in this town and make a museum of weirdness. I was gonna charge people, take them on tours, sell some touristy junk.” He shrugged nonchalantly, like he didn’t really care. It was easier to pretend like he wasn’t invested. “I don’t know. It was stupid. I’m probably not going to do it now that one of my exhibits tried to massacre my entire family.”

Ford put a hand on his shoulder. “No. Lee, you should do it. You’re great at that sort of thing.” The older twin crossed his arms over his chest and smiled at Stan. “I’ve seen the way you sell stuff in the gift shop. You’re a natural showman. Give yourself a chance.”

A warmth blossomed in his chest at Ford’s words. His brother believed in him. He really thought it was a good idea, even after everything this project had put them through. _I’ll do it then. I’m really gonna do it!_ “I was going to call it the Mystery Museum! What do you think?”

Ford turned back to push open the cellar door. “I think it sounds great, Mr. Mystery.”


	13. Exorcism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Ford go to Charlie's Summerween party and everything changes.

“I’m not so sure about this,” Ford said as he tugged at his green sweater vest. He watched as Stan combed back his greased hair and waggled his eyebrows at himself in the bathroom mirror.

“Come on, Poindexter. We finally get to go to Charlie’s Summerween party! Its okay to be a bit nervous, but you can’t let that stop you from living the wild teen life we were meant to live.”

Stan turned to face him and Ford found himself close enough to make out the acne scars that Stan was using Lucy’s makeup to cover up. He opened his mouth but then closed it again hesitating to tell his brother why he didn’t want to go. This party was a big deal to his twin. Ford decided that he could suck up his fear of past humiliations being brought up. He could bury the anxiety deep inside so that Stan could have this.

“You’re right,” he said. The words felt odd on his tongue. “It’s just nerves. Can’t let something so insignificant get in the way of our fun.”

“That’s the spirit, bro bro!”

Stan slipped by him and thumped him on the back as he exited the bathroom. Bile burned in the back of Ford’s throat at the thought of all the older teens that would be there. Some of them would have been in middle school at the time of the panic attack incident. In such a small town even those who were already in high school at the time had also heard about it. They would all know and those who didn’t would have him pointed out by those who did. _“Yeah, the Pines twin with the glasses. He totally had a major freak out in middle school. He completely lost it in the middle of the hallway. ~~If that’s not weird enough, he also has six fingers on each hand~~.”_ Ford swallowed hard. He breathed deeply, in through his nose, out through his mouth. He could do this.

 

* * *

 

Stan and Ford walked all the way to the Corduroy cabin in the middle of the woods. There was no road that led to it, they had to walk on the overgrown dirt path, that was really only travelled around Summerween when Charlie and his friends prepared it for the party. Mr. Corduroy warned him each year not to go out there, but Charlie always ignored him.

When they entered the cabin around nine, the party was in full swing. All of the juniors, seniors, and some recent graduates were there, packed into the cabin. Loud music blared from speakers, some football players were tossing a football back and forth across the room, sending it sailing over the other guests heads, and there was a thick cloud of smoke in a far corner alcove that Ford was pretty sure wasn’t from cigarettes.

“We’re really here,” Stan said, grinning from ear to ear. “Our first _real_ teen party.”

“Ma would kill us if she knew we were here,” Ford said as his gaze flitted nervously over all of the activities going on.

Stan waved off his concern. “That’s why we didn’t tell her. Besides, Shermie said we could.”

“You told him we were hanging out with Lizzie.”

“And we are.” Stan spotted his girlfriend and called her over, having to shout over the music. “Lizzie! Hot stuff! Yeah you!”

Lizzie pushed through the crowd and smacked his shoulder. “I thought I was going to have to punch someone in the face before I realized it was you calling me ‘hot stuff’.”

The overstimulation coming from all sides was making Ford dizzy. It was too much, everyone shouting to be heard over the music, the heady smoke leaking over from the stoners’ corner of the room, the press of bodies that seemed to only get closer and closer and… Ford began to reach for Stan’s hand. He stopped himself suddenly. No. He wasn’t doing that anymore. If he wanted to be independent, he couldn’t go running to his brother every time he was overwhelmed.

“I need some water,” he spoke up suddenly.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow, slightly startled by his request. “Kitchen’s through there,” she directed him, pointing toward a door.

Ford slipped through the crowd and into the kitchen. There were only two other people in there, thankfully keeping to themselves and talking at a reasonable volume as they calmly sipped their beers.

He grabbed a cup from a stack on the counter and filled it with water from the tap. He drank deeply from it and refilled it. This time he only sipped at the water as he leaned back against the counter. The two other party guests finished their conversation and rejoined the party. Neither of them paid him any mind, which he was grateful for.

  He felt calmer now. Maybe he would just stay in the kitchen until Stan was ready to go. It was quiet, the music muffled as it tried to invade through the kitchen walls. This would be his fortress, keeping him protected from the music and wild teenagers that may try to invade his sweet solitude. Now if he just had some protection spells, not even Probabilitor the-

The kitchen door opened. Three of the party guests stumbled in laughing loudly. One of them, a guy with broad shoulders and perfect teeth spotted him, eyes lighting up with recognition. “You’re that Pines kid. Ya know, when you had that mental breakdown in middle school, it was my little sister who went to get the nurse. She said that you totally freaked out back then. Middle school was wild, right?” There was no maliciousness in his tone only good-natured nostalgia. He was ignorant to how traumatizing the event had been, which somehow made it worse.

Ford’s breath stuck in his throat, feeling like it didn’t quite make it to his lungs. Without taking the energy to even respond he pushed past the group and out the kitchen door, back into the wash of loud music, and dancing teens. He quickly looked around for Stan. He didn’t care about independence at this point. He just wanted the grounding sense of his brother’s hand in his. But there was no sign of his twin. The lighting was so dim and the smoke floating around the air only made it more difficult to see.

He could always go outside and wait there. Stan would come out to look for him when he was ready to leave. Or, Ford could just go home on his own.

He started toward the front door but stopped short at the sight of the largest football player making out with a girl in front of the door. There was no way he was getting past them, not without getting punched. He was trapped.

_Hands pinned him down against the bathroom floor. His glasses were gone and his blurry vision only made the reality of his helplessness all the more evident._ No. He just needed somewhere quiet to calm down. _I need Stan._

Ford somehow found himself stumbling down a hallway. The music was duller here but he wasn’t sure if that was from the distance from the speakers or his panic. His sneakers shuffled against the wood floor as he tried to figure out where to go.

Then there was a different sort of music. It was soft and whimsical, the cheerful plucking of a stringed instrument. He followed it, finding that it was steadying him. He entered a den and stood at the door watching. A small group of two guys and three girls sat in a semi-circle around another teen who was playing a banjo.

The boy was gangly and seemed to need to hold his arms at an odd angle to hold the banjo and play. He had blond hair that looked windswept even though there was barely a soft breeze that evening. A pair of glasses sat low on his nose, and the thin, round frames reminded Ford of a stereotypical college professor.

For some reason Ford couldn’t take his eyes off the banjo player. He felt almost as at ease there in that moment, as he did when he had Stan by his side. It was easy to listen to the music and watch the player pluck out the folksy tune.

The banjo player wiggled his nose to try to keep his glasses from slipping off. One of girls closest to him reached out and pushed the glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a flirtatious giggle.

A surge of jealousy shocked Ford into taking a step further into the room. The banjo player’s eyes rose to meet his. Ford felt his mouth go dry and his face heat up. The banjo player also blushed, his pale cheeks going bright pink. His fingers stumbled across the strings, playing a discordant note.

“Oh, uh, sorry, ‘bout that,” he said with a southern drawl that put a warm, flutter in Ford’s chest. “I’ll just take a little break. Thank y’all for listenin’.”

Ford stepped back towards the door feeling bad for interrupting. The was a chance that the front door was clear at this point and he could make a run for it now that his panic had subsided. He was about to leave when he saw the banjo player making his way across the room towards him while the small audience spoke amongst themselves.

“Fiddleford Hadron McGucket,” the banjo player introduced himself, holding out a hand.

Ford froze. His stomach was doing acrobatics in response to being so close to the other teen. He really was standing much too close. Maybe he should take a step back.

Fiddleford grabbed his hand and shook it. Then he frowned and brought Ford’s hand up to eye level to examine it. The flips in Ford’s stomach turned into knots. _Why did he have to notice?_

“You have mighty pretty hands,” the other boy commented. “What’s yer name?”

_Oh, that wasn’t too bad. That was actually kind of nice. He seems sincere enough._ “Stanford. Stanford Pines. My older brother owns the Pines Bed and Breakfast.”

He lowered Ford’s hand but held onto it rubbing his thumb over the knuckles. “My family just moved up here from Tennessee. I heard about this party and decided it’d be a good way to make some friends.”

“My- my twin brother dragged me here.” But that sounded like he didn’t really want to be there, and he hadn’t… until now. “I didn’t really want to come but…”

“Well, I sure am glad yer here, Stanford.” Fiddleford brought the six-fingered hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back.

_Oh, wow._

 

* * *

 

Ford wasn’t sure how it happened, but he was sprawled on a bed in one of the cabin bedrooms with Fiddleford straddling his hips. The other teen’s mouth was on his. Slow, sensual kisses that travelled from his lips to his neck, felt like they were leaving a trail of smoldering skin. The whole room was too hot, sweltering even, or maybe that was just him.

Fiddleford’s fingers were laced through his. It seemed as if he didn’t want to stop touching Ford’s hands even for a moment. He wondered if this new kid in town had some sort of fetish for polydactyly. Then Fiddleford nibbled and sucked at a particularly sensitive part of his neck and with the moan that it elicited he realized that he really wouldn’t mind if that were the case.

One of Fiddleford’s hands pulled away from Ford’s and pushed up underneath his sweater vest. The banjo player made a whine of disappointment and Ford cursed himself for deciding to go with layers in the summer.

Ford put his hands on the other teen’s chest and gently pushed just enough to signal that he needed a moment. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Just let me…” He sat up and Fiddleford sat back enough to give him room, smiling lazily at him. Ford quickly pulled off his sweater vest and then tugged at his button down shirt until he got it untucked. Now, maybe they could move forward with things.

Fiddleford dove back into kissing him, pushing him back down onto the bed. Their glasses clacked together uncomfortably and he went to remove his when hands suddenly pushed up under his shirt. The way the banjo player touched the bare skin of his stomach and chest was electric. He wanted Fiddleford’s hands everywhere.

Ford reached up and tangled his fingers in the other teen’s soft blond hair. He felt bold enough to tug at it playfully and nip at Fiddleford’s bottom lip.

Fiddleford made a noise that sounded somewhere between shocked and pleased. Ford was proud of himself for being able to get that kind of reaction. This boy was his first kiss, his first romantic encounter, his first everything. It felt like his heart would burst with how happy he was. Fiddleford actually liked him, liked him enough that they talked for all of five minutes before they ended up there.

Ford was wondering just how far this would go, and how far he _wanted_ it to go when there was a chorus of screams from outside the room. He tried to ignore it. Fiddleford was carefully unbuttoning his shirt, leaning down to kiss him after each button was undone. The screams didn’t stop and only seemed to get more panicked.

Finally, Ford gave in. He gently patted the banjo player’s chest. “We should go see what’s going on,” he suggested breathlessly.

Fiddleford grabbed his hand and planted a kiss on the palm. “Alright, darlin’. Maybe we can pick this back up later.”

 

* * *

 

The party was chaos. Everyone was running around, trying to find a way out, but any door leading outside had sealed itself. Blood was running down the chimney in the living area and pooling in the fireplace. Long gouges were appearing in the walls, driving everyone into the center of the room.

The one thing that was more terrifying than the rest of it was the fact that Stan could not find Ford. He pushed through the sea of panicked teens with Lizzie gripping his hand tightly so as not to get separated as they searched for his brother. He knew all of this was the work of a ghost, a level ten by the looks of it, but the most important thing was to find Ford.

He was about to call out for his twin when Ford was pushed directly into him by the crowd surging away from a mounted deer head that had started screaming.

“Woah! Sixer, you okay? I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

Ford was a mess. His curly hair was mussed, glasses were askew, top buttons of his shirt were undone. And… wasn’t he wearing a sweater vest earlier? Stan was confused and concerned for his brother. Had someone been messing with him? Then he saw the red, swollen lips and darkening hickey peeking out from under his open collar. Someone had been messing with him, but in a very good way.

“I’m fine,” Ford said, clearing his throat. “What’s going on?”

Stan laughed and clapped Ford on the shoulder. “The better question is, what was going on with you? You have a good time with someone?”

“Best night of my life,” Ford replied with a smile. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

A loud clap of thunder boomed through the room, and Stan hoped he lived to hear about whatever escapades Ford was having while he and Lizzie had been demolishing some of the partygoers in poker. A voice that sounded exactly like the thunder spoke, causing the whole cabin to tremble with the volume of it.

“I WAS A GREAT HUNTER IN THIS TOWN, UNTIL I WAS TRAGICALLY STRUCK DOWN! RELATIVE OR NOT, YOU HAVE ENTERED MY HOME! PREPARE TO SLEEP IN YOUR OWN TOMB!”

As the voice faded, screams and cries of terror filled the air. “Definitely a level ten ghost,” Stan commented.

“Okay,” Ford said letting out a slow breath. “We need to find whatever object this ghost is tied to and exorcise it.”

Stan was always amazed by how Ford was so in his element when it came to the paranormal stuff in the town. Sure Ford had his issues and panicked if someone said or did something that reminded him of past trauma, but if it was a ghost or gremloblin he was more than confident enough to deal with it.

Lizzie was suddenly pulling her hair out of the way, into a ponytail. “I’ll go get Charlie and we’ll start searching.”

Once she began pushing her way through the crowd, Ford addressed Stan. “Lee, I’m going to need you to distract the ghost in some way. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you draw it out, then we can get rid of it much faster than if it’s guarding the object.”

Stan could see the reluctance in Ford’s eyes. His brother didn’t want to be asking this of him. But he could do this. They’d fought off cursed wax dummies; this should be a piece of cake.

“Don’t worry, Sixer! Making a distracting, obnoxious, asshole of myself is practically second nature by this point.”

“Stanley,” Ford said with a frown, that screamed _“we don’t have time now but we are addressing your self-worth issues later”_.

“I’ve got this,” he insisted, waving off the concern. “You just need to worry about the exorcism.”

As Ford ran off to go look for whatever the ghost was tied to, Stan made his way to the fireplace. His shoes splashed in the puddle of blood, but he ignored it in favor of grabbing the poker. It looked like it was probably iron. _Here I go, annoying a ghost that has just threatened to kill us._

People were huddled into groups now, sobbing, hugging, and making confessions. They were really just going to give up. “Hey, everyone!” he called out to get their attention. “I’m Stan Pines. You may know me as the kid from Jersey who murdered twelve people, burned down five buildings, and is technically still a fugitive from the law, but if you’ve heard those rumors then you should realize by now that I’m not one to take things lying down!” There were murmurs and whispering among the crowd of partygoers. Some of them were nodding, while others scoffed. “It doesn’t really matter if you believe the rumors or not. All you need to know is that I’m not going to let some ghost waltz in here and take us out! So, stop your blubbering! I’m making that ghost my bitch and there’s nothin’ he can do to stop me!”

He held the poker aloft and he heard whooping and cheering from the crowd. _That was easier than I thought. I guess most people do believe the rumors._

Suddenly a voice like thunder cut through the cheers. “YOU DARE TO CHALLENGE ME IN MY OWN DOMAIN! YOU WILL NEVER MAKE IT OUT AGAIN!”

Stan swallowed hard. This was what Ford had asked him to do and he would do it. “I’m not scared of you. You won’t even face me. What kind of cowardly ghost hides while threatening a bunch of teenagers?”

“You’re just going to make him more mad!” someone from the crowd hissed.

A cold gust of wind swept through the room. There were gasps from the crowd of partygoers as they shivered at the chill. Then a small green orb appeared in front of Stan. “That’s it? You’re just a little ball of light?” Damn. Ford didn’t need to be worried at all. This was all just some show a puny ghost was putting on to make himself seem more dangerous.

But, then the light grew. Stan stumbled backward further into the pool of blood. _Gross._ The light kept growing, taking on a human like shape. It formed into a man, hovering over the floor. He wore a raccoon skin cap and a flannel coat. He had a rough face and a thick, unruly beard. In his hands, he held a rifle that Stan really hoped didn’t work, or only shot ghost bullets, that would harmlessly pass through things.

“YOU CHILDREN WAKE ME FROM MY GRAVE ONLY TO MOCK ME? THEN FACE THE CONSEQUENCES, YOU CANNOT FLEE!”

The ghost flew at Stan. He had nowhere to go. All he could do was fight. He swung the poker at the transparent figure and the specter dispersed into smoky fragments. Stan looked around waiting for the ghost to reappear. Iron didn’t destroy ghosts as strong as this, only hindered them. All he could do was hope Ford would find the object fast.

 

* * *

 

Ford threw open a door and found a room piled to the ceiling with crates. This must be where Charlie moved any of the cabin’s storage. He was going to have to go through each of them to be sure the object wasn’t there. He prayed that Stan could survive playing chicken with an angry ghost long enough for him or one of the Corduroys to find the object it was tied to.

He grabbed a crowbar that was laying on top of a crate and began prying it open. How had he gone from making out with Fiddleford to fighting a ghost? It almost felt like if he had stayed in that room, locked away in that wonderful bubble of sensual bliss, that the ignorance of the ghost’s presence would have been enough to make it just not be a problem.

Ford adjusted his hold on the crowbar, trying to use his weight for leverage. _“Maybe we can pick this back up later”_ Fiddleford wanted to see him again. That was amazing in and of itself. He wasn’t a mistake that the banjo player had made. They would find each other once the ghost was gone. Fiddleford would probably be leisurely strumming his banjo in the bedroom he’d left him in and they’d embrace before picking up where they’d left off. Hell, maybe the other boy would think he was badass for taking on a level ten ghost.

Ford felt his face heating up at the thought. He refocused and pressed down on the crowbar with a grunt of excursion. The wood creaked as the crate finally relented. Inside were books layered in dust. Ford pulled book after book out and flipped through them. Usually, an object connected with a ghost glowed while the apparition was active. It should be easy to spot, but the sheer amount of crates to go through was intimidating.

He tossed the books into a pile, wincing at his carelessness. But he didn’t have time to care. After he was done, he moved onto the next crate. This one had only a mounted bear head wrapped in canvas and pack with straw. No ethereal glow to be found.

What if Fiddleford left? He was new to Gravity Falls. What if all of this weirdness freaked him out so much he just decided to move back to Tennessee? Ford grabbed the crowbar and moved on to the next crate. He needed to get this done, for Stan and hopefully for Fiddleford.

 

* * *

 

The crowd of teenagers had scrambled to find cover. They hid behind furniture or darted into the kitchen, some even climbed inside of the china cabinet that had a sheet over it. Meanwhile Stan dodged the blast of compacted ghost energy that shot out of the transparent rifle. He was trying to keep the ghost’s attention on himself, and had the singed arm hair to prove it.

The ghost roared like thunder and charged toward Stan. He tried to jump out of the way but the soles of his shoes stuck like glue to the wood floor. He didn’t even get the chance to panic as the ghost rammed into him. It was like ice being injected into his veins. He was frozen from the inside out as cotton filled his head. _Not fun. Not fun at all._

Stan’s shoes came unstuck as he dropped to the ground. The teens around him were crying and panicking again. He couldn’t let them think that they were going to die. People did stupid things once they gave up. They had hope. Ford was going to save them. Ford always came through.

“That all you got?” Stan called out hoarsely. He slowly pushed himself to his feet and staggered over to where he’d dropped the fireplace poker earlier. He picked it up and took a deep breath. Ford would save them, Stan just needed to hold out a little longer. “I said, is that all you got, you piece of shit!” he shouted. It wasn’t his most creative insult, but he was still reeling from being hit.

A chill crept up his spine and Stan whipped around. The ghost grinned eerily from where it hovered over him. “OH, NOT TO FEAR, SON. THIS NIGHT HAS ONLY JUST BEGUN!”

 

* * *

 

After opening the next three crates with still no sign of the object, a rising panic was taking hold of Ford. Pain was radiating through his right arm, sharp and persistent, from prying open each one. He glared at the still remaining closed crates. It was tempting to just decide that none of them probably held the object and try a different room. But he didn’t know for sure. If he walked out of the room only to later find that it was right there in front of him… he would never forgive himself. Ford gripped the crowbar in his left hand and continued to work.

Crate number six was filled with several antique rifles. They were individually wrapped in canvas. Ford untied the twine on each one and examined them. It was the final one that when he unwrapped it, he found a soft green glow surrounding the rifle. Relief washed through him at the sight. “Huzzah!” he muttered to himself. He could end this and check on Stan… then maybe go find the banjo player.

He pulled chalk and a book of matches from his pockets, then went back to an earlier crate to grab some candles. He set up the exorcism circle as quickly as he could without making any errors. He cleared his throat and spoke as clearly as he could. “Exodus demonus spookus scarus ainafraidus no ghostus bumpus goosus shamalaaan!

The glow around the rifle became bright enough to make Ford shield his eyes. Thunder reverberated throughout the cabin once more, causing the walls to tremble. Then the ghost came flying through the wall next to Ford. That wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be cut from the object and sent to the afterlife. Ford hit the floor, ducking under its path.

“YOU DARE TRY TO BANISH MY PRESENCE! IF YOU THINK I’LL GO QUIETLY, YOU HAVE NO SENSE!”

Ford tried to repeat the exorcism as he dove behind a crate but only got as far as “ainafraidus no ghostus” before he was cut off. A flash of light went through the room, too similar to lightning. There was a thump from the closet that caused Ford to look up just as a mirror on the wall to his left shattered. Ford ducked and covered the back of his head. The exorcism hadn’t worked. Why wasn’t it working? _Is the ghost too powerful?_ It was the only thing he could do. He had to try one more time.

He crawled back to the exorcism circle, dodging the contents of the crates being thrown around the room. He gasped as a letter opener flew by slicing a gash into his cheek. The wound stung as a chilly gust blew around him. He barely made it back to the circle without further injury and called out the exorcism. He was sure that he would’ve felt silly if not for the threat to his life. This time the ghostly glow dimmed dramatically.

“NO! NO! I WILL GET MY REVENGE! DO NOT THINK THIS IS THE END!” The ghost’s voice became muted as the smoky apparition dissolved.

Then finally, the ghost was gone. Ford rested his forehead against the cool wood floor with a sigh. He wanted to say something like, _“Yeah, this is the end you jerkface!”_ but he couldn’t find the energy. They did it. They defeated the ghost before he could kill them all or whatever his stupid goal was.

Now, he needed to go find Stan. Ford felt a rush of guilt at leaving his twin out there to face the vengeful specter alone. He wondered what state he’d find his brother in. Ford slowly got to his feet, the muscles in his arms protesting. His right arm gave out all together and his weight shifted completely to his left. _That is going to hurt so much worse in the morning_. He finally managed to get to his feet and shuffled to the door.

When Ford stepped out into the hallway, he could hear cheering coming from the living area. He was nervous at the attention that awaited him, but part of him was excited. He would no longer be “the kid who freaked out in middle school”. Now he and Stan would be “the Pines brothers who defeated that ghost at the Summerween party”. Wouldn’t that be novel, not being known for something being wrong with him.

He wiped the congealing blood from his face as he walked into the living area to see everyone surrounding Stan. They were patting him on the back, calling him cool, and brave, and amazing. Ford waited for his brother to say something about him. The longer it took the larger the lump in his throat got.

Stan was grinning from ear to ear. He was a bit disheveled but otherwise uninjured. What Ford could see of his brother’s skin was free of scrapes and bruises. He reached up and touched the wound on his own face again.

Someone thumped him on the back too hard making him stumble forward a step. It was the broad shouldered guy from earlier. He clenched his jaw bracing himself for whatever idiotic thing was going to come out of the guy’s mouth.

“Did you see Stan earlier? He fought a fucking ghost, man. That was insane! It must be great to have a hero for a twin brother.”

“No,” Ford pushed out through clenched teeth. “I didn’t see it.”

“It’s okay if you were hiding, kid.” He ruffled Ford’s hair and Ford pushed the hand away. “Everyone knows you have your little freak outs.”

Ford wanted to punch the guy in his perfect teeth. He could imagine it, even as he glared into the crowd surrounding Stan. The way his knuckles would ache upon colliding with cheekbone, but how satisfying it would feel to take out his frustration. _Why isn’t Lee saying anything?_

“Stan! Stan! Stan! Stan!” they began chanting. Then two of the football players pulled Stan up onto their shoulders. Stan looked shocked but he was smiling. He was smiling so big that Ford found himself wanting to wipe it from his face. _Say something. Say anything. Just mention that I helped, that I’m not some coward who hid. ~~But you are a coward. Coward. Coward.~~ I’m not._

Their eyes met for only a moment. Ford turned and walked out the front door.

 

* * *

 

Stan watched Ford walk away, flinching with the slamming of the front door. What was Ford so upset about? Had he gotten hurt? He’d seen the cut on his brother’s face.

“Stan! Stan! Stan! Stan!”

He patted the shoulder of one of the football players. “Hey, guys, I need to get down now.”

They lowered him to the ground and one of them patted his shoulder. “I’m throwing my summer party soon. You have to come. Everyone’s going to be there, so we’ll need our favorite ghost killer.”

The other football player yelled out. “Ghost killer!”

Everyone cheered, but Stan kept glancing toward the door, his whole focus on his twin. “Yeah, sure, I’ll be there. You guys keep celebrating. I have to go check on something.”

Once he made it out the door he saw Ford walking away from the cabin. He ran after him and grabbed his shoulder. “Sixer! Sixer, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?!” Ford snapped, rounding on him.

Stan stumbled back a step. He’d never seen his twin so angry. His face was twisted in rage and it scared him a bit to see his usually mild-mannered brother so furious.

“‘What’s wrong?’ is you taking all the credit for getting rid of the ghost!”

Stan frowned. It hadn’t been intentional. He’d just gotten caught up in the moment. He shrugged at the accusation. “I didn’t mean to. It’s no big deal. I’ll just go in and tell them then.”

“Seriously!” Ford shouted, voice rising an octave.

Stan jumped at the harshness of the word.

“Everyone in there thinks that I ran and hid. They think that I’m a coward. If you go in there now and tell them I helped they’ll think that I asked you to.”

Stan was perplexed by Ford’s strange logic. Where’d he even get it from that everyone thought he’d hidden? “But, you _are_ asking me to.”

Ford was silent, glaring at him like he had just slapped him. Stan got the feeling that he had said the wrong thing. “You bastard!” Ford finally spat. “I’m the one who did the exorcism! I’m the one who actually got rid of it!”

Now it was Stan’s turn to feel like he had just been slapped. How dare Ford act like Stan had stood around doing nothing, waiting to steal the credit? He gave a wry laugh and shook his head with false amusement. “Yeah, it’s not like you asked me to risk my life getting a ghost to chase after me instead of you.”

“You didn’t have to,” Ford muttered, looking away. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and said louder. “I could have done it without you.”

Stan swallowed hard. That stung. Ford had always been the one defending his worth, now he was crushing it under his foot like it was nothing more than an annoyance. It was clear that his twin was only going to build him up when it suited him and tear him down when he couldn’t deal with others recognizing him for once.

“Sure, you chanted some funny Latin words, but I had to actually fight it! I protected you… like I always do.” Maybe he had taken it a bit too far but Stan didn’t regret it… did he?

Ford nodded as if he agreed with Stan’s assessment, then uncrossed his arms. “Yeah. You sure did a great job of that,” he said pointing to the gash in his cheek. “But you know what you _never_ do? Think about anyone else but yourself, you selfish prick.”

Then Ford shoved him. Stan took a step back, shocked by what had just happened. The surprise wore off quickly though, and on instinct Stan shoved him back. Then they were grappling with each other. Stan was trying to get him on the ground to keep him from hurting himself. He could tell that Ford was favoring his left arm and didn’t want to make the right one worse. But Ford was clearly trying to get him into a headlock.

“Stop it, guys!” that was Lizzie’s voice. Stan wondered when she had come out there and how much she had heard. “Stop it!”

Stan pushed Ford back and they broke apart. They stood there facing each other, both breathing hard. Stan hoped that that was it. They each had their say, blew off some steam. Now things could go back to how they were. They would just ignore everything that had happened between them just then.

“You turned the best night of my life into the worst,” Ford bit out.

How could Ford still want to do this? Why couldn’t he just let it go? Stan wanted to be done, but Ford was going to keep pushing and pushing. Fine. Then he’d keep going too. “Because other people actually think I’m worth something for once in my life? Grow up, Stanford!”

The six fingers of Ford’s left hand curled into a fist. Stan watched as he raised it, preparing to slam it into the side of Stan’s face. Stan braced himself for the impact. If that’s what would satisfy Ford, then fine, but his twin would have to deal with the consequences.

But the impact never came, instead a red ponytail swung into Stan’s view. Lizzie was there between them. Her back was facing Stan as she confronted Ford.

“You need to stop. Now,” she ordered. She sounded just like her mother, leaving no room for argument.

Ford’s expression softened and he actually looked a bit ashamed. “I- I’m sorry, Stanley. I didn’t mean-”

“Save it.” Stan didn’t want to hear his brother trying to defend himself. He had given Ford plenty of chances to let it go and move on. With that raised fist he had told Stan everything he needed to know. “Go home, Ford.”

Ford’s expression hardened again. He turned away and shoved his hands in his pocket as he started down the overgrown path.

Stan took Lizzie’s hand.

“You need to talk to him, Stan,” she told him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“We both said enough. Come on. Let’s go tell Charlie that I’m gonna walk you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did take some liberties with the ghost lore of Gravity Falls. I added in some stuff inspired by Supernatural and also my own imagination. I hope that you guys enjoyed the chapter. I do appreciate the comments that I get as they are very encouraging! Thanks! :)


	14. The Yellow Triangle and the Pawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days after Summerween, Ford is still pissed at Stan. He goes to check out some caves and thinks that summoning unknown entities against the advice of other magical creatures will somehow help the situation.

Ford sat behind the cash register in his mom’s store. The place was about the same size as, perhaps a bit smaller than, the pawn shop back in Glass Shard Beach. There were several bookshelves that spanned whole walls. A table set up for fortune telling was in a small alcove, with decorative curtains hanging around it and some incense burning nearby giving off the perfect atmosphere.

Behind Ford and to either side of the counter there were some shelves lined with little trinkets that his mom claimed had magical properties. He doubted any of them actually worked, but who knew? It was Gravity Falls after all.

Ford stared down at the blank page of his journal as his mom read the palm of a blonde, teenage girl in the alcove. It had been three days since Summerween and Ford was still struggling with how to write down the account of what had happened. Three days of processing the events and it somehow wasn’t enough time for him to form the words that usually came so easily.

He was still angry with his twin and he wanted to write of Stan’s betrayal… but if he wrote about the fight, he would have to give an honest account. Rewriting history was tempting, but he couldn’t lie to himself. He had said and done some things that he wasn’t proud of and he didn’t wish to relive them. An image of his fist held aloft, preparing to smash it into the side of Stan’s jaw, flashed through his mind. Ford shut his journal and shoved it into his backpack. He would try again later.

The little bell above the shop’s door jingled alerting them to a new customer. Ford swallowed and looked up. A gaggle of three teenage girls entered. That was mostly the type of customer they got, teenage girls who wanted to know if their crush liked them back. Other than that, it was a mixture of middle-aged adults, both men and women, who wanted to know if their spouse was cheating, and sometimes edgy preteens who wanted to buy voodoo dolls.

The girls huddled around one of the bookshelves muttering excitedly about love spells. Ford sighed, feeling sorry for whatever guy was their target. He’d never tried a love spell himself but this was Gravity Falls, so chances were they may find something that would work.

Caryn finished up with the girl and the blonde came up to the counter to buy one of the good luck charms on her way out. She picked up a necklace with a four-leaf clover printed on a gold medallion. “Madam Caryn said I’ll need one of these for the next week. How much?” she asked gravely.

Ford glanced over at where his mom was polishing the crystal ball. She winked at him and he cleared his throat, focusing back on the girl in front of him. “Twelve dollars,” he told her, feeling guilty for charging so much for a worthless piece of junk.

She paid and smiled as she put it on. “Thank you. Its nice to have someone who takes me as seriously as Madame Caryn does.”

“Well, we strive to give peace of mind.” It was the most neutral reply he could give.

She waved as she headed for the door. “Thanks again.”

A loud giggle from the group of girls drew his attention. He glanced over to see that they were watching him. As soon as they caught his eye, they all turned away and burst into even louder giggles. He felt a blush heat his face and he looked down at the counter.

Ford fought to keep his hands in front of him, instead of giving in to the impulse to hide them behind his back. The laughter didn’t seem mean-spirited but with his peers he never knew for sure.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye and he looked up to see his mom giving him pointed looks. She subtly jerked her head toward the group of girls and mouthed “Talk to them!”. Ford gave her a sharp shake of his head in refusal. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t because he was holding out hope that he still had a chance with that boy from the party. It was only because he didn’t want to be pressured by his own mother into flirting with the group of girls. In reality, it was a little of both.

The girls came walking over to the counter. Two of them pushed the third girl forward. She put a book on the counter and timidly said “How much is this?” She fluttered her eyelashes then glanced back at her friends.

Ford swallowed hard then picked up the book. He turned it over, looking for a price sticker, finding that it was a book about soulmates. When he couldn’t find the price, he pulled out the catalog he had put together for the shop. He found the title after a couple of silent moments of searching. “Forty-two dollars and ninety-nine cents.”

The girl looked a bit flustered but then her friends hissed something at her and she cleared her throat. “Do you think we can get a discount?” She reached over the counter and touched his wrist. He tensed at the contact and when she tried to slide her hand down to his fingers, he pulled away.

While he knew the book was overpriced, their attempts at flirting for a discount put a bad taste in his mouth. “Sorry. The prices are final, but you can speak with owner if you’d like.” He gestured to where his mom was still standing at the alcove. When the girls looked over at her, she waved.

“That’s okay,” the girl said pushing the book toward Ford. “We’ll save up and get it later. The book does seem interesting… have you read it? The idea of soulmates, it’s so romantic.”

The other girls were giggling again. Ford looked down at the book. The cover had a picture of two hearts overlapping embroidered into it. “No. I haven’t read it. The idea of soulmates does sound fascinating though.” Could his meeting Fiddleford have just been chance or destiny? Ford wanted to laugh at himself for even thinking such a silly thing. He was letting his fantastical thoughts run away with him. Indulging in such thinking was enjoyable though.

The girl looked back at her friends again. She then pulled a pen out of her purse and held it out to Ford. “Could you maybe autograph my arm? I don’t have any paper at the moment…”

Ford’s eyes widened at the strange request. “What? Why?” He glanced past them at his mom, but she looked just as perplexed as he felt.

She giggled and nodded at the pen in her hand to prod him. “You’re Stan Pines. You fought that ghost at the Summerween party. Everyone’s been talking about it. You’re practically a celebrity!”

It felt as if the air had been sucked out of the shop. The light, flirty atmosphere had disappeared and been replaced with a leaden, awkward one. The girl’s smile faltered. She felt the shift and must’ve realized she said something wrong. Her “friends” were still giggling away behind her and Ford suspected they’d known the whole time who he was.

Ford pushed her hand back toward her. “You have the wrong twin,” he informed her icily.

“What?” she asked, cheeks quickly reddening.

He glared at the other girls and the irritating giggles stopped. At least they had the decency to look abashed once they realized they’d been caught out for their little “joke”. Ford could see his mother glaring at them too, and if looks could kill, they’d be zombies.

“I- I didn’t realize… I mean-”

“Honest mistake. We _are_ twins.” _Please just leave so that I can… ~~wallow in self-pity~~ … get on with my day._

The girl couldn’t take the hint. “You must think I’m such a jerk. I was only trying to-”

Ford grabbed the book from the counter. “If you’re not going to buy anything, you should probably go.”

Her jaw clicked shut. Tears were welling in her eyes. He oddly enough, felt no remorse for his harshness with her. He strode across the shop to the empty spot on the bookshelf where the book belonged. Behind him the bell above the door jingled and the door slammed shut.

Ford stayed facing the bookshelf, even after he’d already replaced the book. _Of course the girls wanted Stan’s autograph, he is a hero now. He saved everyone from a ghost, punched it right into the afterlife… It’s not like I’m the one who actually saved the day._

It was days like this that Ford usually went to the boxing gym. He didn’t keep up with practicing, not like Stan tried to, but it was good for blowing off steam. But, there was the risk of running into his twin. _Stan ruins everything… ~~that’s not really fair though.~~_

A hand landed on his shoulder. He jumped and the hand disappeared. He turned to see his mom looking sheepish. It felt like a rock settled in his stomach.

She looked like she didn’t know what to do with her hands. “You can go take a break if you need one. And I- I’ll ban those girls from the shop.”

“After I made one of them cry? I doubt they’ll ever be coming anywhere near the shop again.” Ford imagined word spreading around to all the high school students that he was an asshole because a girl made a mistake that anyone could’ve made. He wouldn’t _just_ be a coward, now he was going to be known as a cowardly jerk.

He would become an outcast again, like back in New Jersey… Blood was roaring in his ears and a dizziness swept over him. Someone put a tentative hand on his arm. They were speaking but his brain wasn’t up to processing the words. _It will be Stan’s fault if I end up back where I started at twelve-years-old._ _He’s the one who took all the credit when he knew perfectly well that he didn’t do a damn thing to get rid of that ghost. ~~You’re treating Stan like a scapegoat.~~_ ~~~~

“Stanford!”

His mom looked concerned and she had a hand on the side of his face. She’d obviously been trying to get his attention for a while. Great. Now he was worrying his mother.

“Sorry. I was…” he trailed off, unsure what to say about how his thoughts had spiraled.

“Go home and rest,” she told him firmly. “I have things handled here. Okay?”

“But you have another appointment in fifteen minutes. What if another customer comes in while you’re doing the reading?”

“I’ll figure it out. One of them will have to be patient.” She waved off Ford’s concern. “It won’t be the end of the world. Go home.”

Ford decided that he didn’t have the energy to argue. He grabbed his stuff and left the shop. The sound of the bell above the door grated on his nerves, making him flinch as he exited.

 

* * *

 

Ford was almost back to the bed and breakfast when he realized that home was the last place he wanted to be. It was possible that Stan was there. It hit him that these past three days were the first time in his life he had no idea where his twin was. The animosity between them kept them from speaking, and discussing what their plans were. Stan could be at the Corduroy’s house, the boxing gym, hanging out with Lizzie in town, with Chris, at the lake, in the cellar setting up his museum of weirdness… _I was going to help Stan with that…_

No. He didn’t want to go home.

He took a detour into the midst of the forest and headed toward the caves. He and Stan had started to explore them, but hadn’t made much progress. It was something they were supposed to do together. _Screw him. If he doesn’t want to share the glory with me, then why should I share any of this with him._

Ford pressed onwards, taking sure steps. He didn’t need Stan holding his hand anymore. He wasn’t that twelve-year-old kid, who was afraid of his own shadow. _~~He had been pathetic back then.~~_

There was a dirt path that he followed up, going higher in elevation. When he had travelled the path with Stan, his twin had complained about it being too steep. Stan had whined and whined. They had barely begun to explore the first cave system they came across when Ford had finally given in. _“Grow up, Stanford!”_ Stan dared to say that after how he had acted every day of his life.

He stopped at the second cave system that Stan had prevented them from getting to during their previous trip. He adjusted the backpack on his shoulders and took a step forward. Something barreled into him from his left side, sending him to the ground. “Shit!” he yelped. The wind had been knocked out of him and he tried to catch his breath as he looked up. A large gray wolf standing over him, growling low in its throat.

To be honest, the wolf was beautiful, but also terrifying. Dark eyes stared down at him as it bared its teeth. Ford held his breath as he tried to remember whether or not eye contact was okay. He had gotten a book about wolves on that trip to the zoo when he was eight. His mind blanked on the facts he had read in it.

Then the wolf seemed to frown. Its eyes looked too aware, too human, as its whole body relaxed. The wolf stepped back and Ford slowly sat up.

“You are only a child.” Ford startled at the sound of a woman’s voice coming from the wolf.

He scrambled back away from it on instinct, but then paused. A talking animal… this was amazing! Even with all of the strange things he’d seen in Gravity Falls, this was something new. Could all animals in the town actually talk or was it only certain ones? What quality decided such a thing? Had they evolved to be self-aware? He had so many questions.

“How did you do that?” Ford asked. “How are you talking?”

“It is dangerous here, child. You should leave.”

“Dangerous?” He looked around but didn’t see anything that would obviously pose a threat to them. “What do you mean? Are there other animals that can talk?”

“I am not an animal. This is just the form I have taken.” The wolf came closer and nudged at Ford’s foot with her nose. “Go home, child. There is nothing in the caves for you.”

Ford slowly got to his feet but he didn’t make any move to leave. The wolf was guarding the cave… Now he was even more curious as to what was in it. “What… why don’t you want me to go in the cave?”

“You are curious?” she asked, tilting her head and squinting at him.

Ford nodded eagerly. “Yes. We- I mean, _I_ have been studying the anomalies in Gravity Falls. I’m sure I can handle whatever it is.”

“Curiosity has been the downfall of many men, far greater than a little child such as you.”

Ford spluttered indignantly. “I exorcised a level ten ghost just a few days ago.” He found himself gesturing helplessly in the direction of the Corduroy cabin. “I’m sixteen, so not exactly a child.”

The wolf growled at him again, baring her teeth. Ford stepped back, feeling incredibly stupid for forgetting that it was a predatory animal that he was arguing with. Maybe it was better if he just left and let the wolf keep her secrets.

“I kill the men who trespass here. Do not insist on being grown when I am showing you mercy only because you are an innocent child.”

Ford nodded. “Sorry. I- I’ll go.”

The wolf nodded. “That would be wise.”

A shout and a laugh echoed through the forest, startling them both. The wolf turned toward the sound, but then looked back at Ford. “Go home,” she told him with a growl. Then she ran toward the voices.

Ford looked over his shoulder toward the path home, then to the cave. This was his chance. Whatever was in there couldn’t possibly be more dangerous than the ghost he had faced. _And I could have faced it alone._

He jogged forward into the cave. The darkness quickly consumed the light as he made his way deeper in. He pulled a flashlight out of his backpack and shined the beam of light on his surroundings as he kept going. Paintings from the natives of the area decorated the walls. He didn’t understand how Stan could complain about exploring such an amazing place.

Ford paused when he came to a mural that spanned the entirety of the cave wall. It was of a large, yellow triangle and people worshipping it. Words were written describing the scene but he’d need more time to translate it. He didn’t want to risk the wolf coming back and finding him.

Ford made notes and sketches of the cave paintings. Once he was done, he cautiously left the cave, looking around for the talking wolf. Not seeing or hearing any sign of her, he jogged back up the path. He only slowed once he was sure he was far enough away to not encounter her again.

 

* * *

 

After leaving the cave, Ford had gone to the library and gotten as many books as he could about the natives of Gravity Falls and their language from the section on local history. Then that night he made himself a little study area in the storage room of the bed and breakfast to continue his efforts to translate the cave painting. Isolating himself away from his family ensured that he would have the peace and quiet he needed… and that he wouldn’t have to talk to Stan.

It was around three in the morning that he figured out it was some sort of summoning ritual for an omniscient entity. He thought about the persistent question that he could never seem to find the answer to: where did all the weird stuff in Gravity Falls come from?

He still needed to finish translating it. Then he could try it out. He muttered the words to himself as he wrote them out and attempted to decipher their meanings.

 

Ford opened his eyes and he was in a strange setting, stranger than Gravity Falls. It was endless space with shining stars in the distance. Objects floated freely around him. Assignments that he had gotten a hundred and ten percent on fluttered around his head. A pair of boxing gloves bounced past. He turned around in a full circle as he took it all in. Then he spotted his journals as they floated by. He reached out to grab one.

It was and wasn’t his journal. Something told him that it indeed belonged to him, but… it was different. A gold, foil hand was pasted to the front and a number one was drawn on it. The most interesting part was that the hand had six fingers. He rested his hand on top of the identical image… perfect fit.

Suddenly, a shadow was looming over him. His heart stuttered in his chest at the thought of what the shadow could belong to. He spun around to find a creature watching him. A… triangle with one eye and a top hat?

“Hiya, smart guy!” the triangle greeted before disappearing. The triangle creature then reappeared behind him, startling Ford. “Don’t have a heart attack, you’re not ninety-two yet!” The creature circled the teen, seemingly amused by Ford’s reaction.

“Who are you?” Ford took a step back. This was a dream. He could tell that his surroundings were something so surreal they could only exist in his mind. This creature though… this was something so… out there that his imagination could not possibly fabricate it. Where could this have come from? Then it hit him. The yellow triangle in the cave painting. _Could the summoning incantation have actually worked?_

“The name’s Bill,” the triangle said as he tipped his top hat. “And you’re Stanford Pines, the man who changed the world, but I’m getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s relax. Care for a game of interdimensional chess?” A chess set laid out on a table and a chair appeared. The chair scooped Ford up, making him sit in it. Bill was speaking so fast, his mind was reeling. “Have a cup of tea.” A tea pot and cup popped into existence and poured him a steaming serving of the beverage. Ford held it in his hands, unsure if he was allowed to reject it.

What was there to say to a possibly omniscient being? Did Bill already know what he was going to say? Did he know what Ford was thinking? And hadn’t Bill called him “the man who changed the world”. What had he meant by that? All of these questions ran through his head but none made it out of his mouth. Instead he said, “I don’t know how to play chess.”

His face heated as soon as the words left his mouth. Ford had wanted to learn how to play. He’d tried to join the middle school chess club back in Glass Shard Beach but they had rejected him. They’d told him that they already got bullied enough and didn’t want to give the bullies more fuel by having the six-fingered freak as a part of their club.

“Don’t sweat it, braniac,” Bill said, waving off his concern. “I’ll teach you. In fact, that’s what I’m here to do. You see, I’m what you could call… a muse. Every century I choose a genius to inspire. This century that genius is you, smart guy.”

“Me?” Ford knew he was intelligent. The principals of his middle school and high school had talked to Shermie and his mom about having him skip a few grades. He’d always turned it down though preferring to stay with Stan. “Genius” was a word he’d never considered using though. Stan had off-handedly said it before but always with a laugh and a playful ruffling of his hair. Had Ford been underestimating himself this whole time?

“Yes, you. You’re special,” Bill confirmed, floating closer. “I’ve been watching and waiting for you to find me. And you did it! Congratulations! Your prize is me mentoring you! I’ll help you unlock the secrets of not just this dimension, but every dimension, even the ones that don’t exist yet or are long dead.”

“Wait, do you mean there are other dimensions, not just in theory?” Ford felt like his brain would implode from all the new information Bill was giving him. But, he was also hungry for more. He wanted to devour every bit of this omniscience.

“Of course there are. Where do you think all of this weirdness comes from?”

Finally, some answers. Ford was on the edge of seat, waiting for more. “What dimension does it come from? Or is it leaking over from multiple dimensions? What dimension are you from?”

Bill laughed and his eye squinted into what could be interpreted as a smile. “Slow down, Sixer.”

The nickname that only Stan used made Ford’s enthusiasm suddenly die. He sat back and looked away. He sipped at his tea to give himself something to do. Stan was somehow even ruining this. _~~You’re acting like your father, blaming Stan for everything.~~_

“Let’s start with the basics,” Bill continued. He caused a chess piece to float up in the air and in front of Ford’s eyes. “This is a pawn.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I saw the headcanon floating around that Ford doesn't actually know how to play chess and incorporated it into my story. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter, this is where things really start to get going now that we have Bill Cipher here causing trouble!


	15. Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford has several meaningful conversations. Fifty percent of them go well.

Ford searched through the nonfiction section of the library until he found the correct call number. After meeting Bill Cipher he decided he needed to know more about muses. Mythology seemed like the perfect place to start. He pulled a few books on Greek myths off of the shelf.

He then turned to a nearby table to get started on his research when something rammed him hard in the gut, nearly causing him to drop his armload of library books. It was a struggle to manage his hold on them as most of their weight pressed on his right arm. The burden sent a shot of pain through the limb.

A little redheaded girl, clung around his middle as she looked up at him with a grin that showed off a missing front tooth. “Ford! Ford! I read ten books for my summer reading program already! That’s more than anyone else!”

Lizzie came running over before he could reply and pried her younger sister off of him. “Sorry,” she said awkwardly. The tension grew as they both realized that library patrons were glaring at them for making noise. “Jessie, you need to use your inside voice. And you can’t go tackling people like some sort of animal.”

Ford thought about the wolf by the cave and wondered if she knew that he had ignored her warnings. Would she kill him if they ever crossed paths again? Meeting Bill seemed worth it, even just after that first conversation. It had opened up a multitude of new worlds for him.

“I want Ford to be proud of me though,” Jessie whined. “Stan said if I read a lot, I can be a smarty-pants just like Ford!” At the mention of Stan’s name Lizzie and Ford locked eyes then both quickly looked away.

Ford cleared his throat then smiled down at Jessie. “It sounds like you’ve made a great start on your summer reading. Keep up the good work.”

“And I can be a smarty-pants like you?” she pressed.

“Just like me,” he agreed with a nod. He shifted the weight of the books in an attempt to relieve the ache radiating through his arm.

Lizzie put a hand on Jessie’s shoulder to get her attention. “Head over to the children’s section and start picking out some new books. I need to have a private, grown-up conversation with Ford, then I’ll meet you.”

The young girl rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not a grown-up. You’re just a teenager,” she argued, but started over to the children’s section as ordered.

Ford looked to Lizzie and watched as she tugged at a strand of hair, then tucked it behind her ear. He adjusted the books in his arms again to give himself something to do. He wanted her to get on with her attempts to get him to speak with his twin. The sooner it was out there, the sooner he could reject it and get back to his research. Stan was really the only thing they had in common. There was nothing else it could be about.

“Stan’s been worried about you.”

_Great start. I’ll just go running back to the insensitive jerk with open arms._ “I’m just fine. Nothing for him to worry about.” _I’m sure he’s so broken up about this… With everyone asking for autographs and girls batting their eyes at him… Must be hard…_ _~~He’s probably relieved to finally be out of the shadow of his freakish twin.~~_

“You know that he didn’t want this, right? He wasn’t trying to steal the limelight from you.” Lizzie looked frustrated as she tried to keep her voice low but earnest. “It was all a misunderstanding.”

Ford’s right arm still throbbed from the weight of the mythology books and the edges of the hardcovers were digging into his ribs. “Him taking all the credit for exorcising the ghost was a misunderstanding? I would think ‘lie of omission’ or even ‘purposeful deception’ would be a more apt descriptor.”

Her eyes narrowed and she took a step closer. Ford had only seen her get like this when Chris said something particularly inappropriate.

“You know Stan wouldn’t do something like that to you on purpose. He liked the attention but who can blame him? It’s not like he received much praise from others in your childhood.”

“Well, great, he gets to be the hero.” It was Ford’s turn to step closer to her. She didn’t move except to tip her head up to still look him in the eyes. “Meanwhile, I will always be the kid who had the mental breakdown in seventh grade. People still mention it to me. Kids who were there, kids who weren’t there, the cashier at the grocery store… they all know and it’s never going to change. Except now I get to have, ‘oh, aren’t you the kid who fought that ghost, no wait, you’re his nerdy twin brother’ tacked on. That’s been fun.” Ford let out a shaky breath. He hadn’t meant to reveal that much. The words were out there now, his insecurities laid bare for Lizzie to see.

“Stan is trying to fix it,” Lizzie insisted. “He tells anyone who will listen that you were there, working behind the scenes.” Her volume had risen enough that people were glaring again. She looked around and took a deep breath. Her voice was calm as she continued. “You both said and did some things that you need to apologize for. I talked to Stan and he’s willing to try to make up with you. I’m hoping, that you’re willing to do the same?”

He wanted to stubbornly refuse. Stan was the one at fault. While he himself had said some regrettable things, he wasn’t the one who needed to apologize. Stan should be the one coming to him and begging forgiveness. But that wasn’t what Lizzie wanted to hear.

 “Please just think about it,” she insisted.

“I’ll think about it,” he agreed, lacking any sincerity.

 After that she left for the children’s section. Agreeing to hear out her plea for him to speak with Stan tasted bitter even if he didn’t mean it. If her words had been a physical object he would have torn them up and tossed them in the trash. He still considered her a friend but he knew that she would always take Stan’s side, even when his twin was wrong.

Finally, Ford sat down to go through the books he had pulled from the shelves. It took a while for his mind to refocus on his task. Bits of the conversation with Lizzie and his argument with Stan played through his head.

_Focus on Bill. He’s the one good thing right now._ His mentor and muse had promised to teach him things that people in his dimension couldn’t even imagine. Ford absently sketched a picture of Bill in his journal and he smiled down at it. _Yeah, Bill is the one good thing right now._

 

* * *

 

Fiddleford Hadron McGucket wanted nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow him. The boy he had made out with at Summerween was sitting at a table in the library reading and taking notes from a book. Fiddleford ducked behind one of the bookshelves and pulled a couple of books out so he could peek through. He watched Stanford’s six-fingered hand grip the pen and the memory of kissing the palm of it flashed through his mind.

A blush crept up his neck, betraying the chagrin he felt at his actions that night. He should apologize for all of those things he had said and the way he had steered them into that bedroom. What had he been thinking? That poor boy must have thought he was trying to pressure him into… Good Lord, his mother would be ashamed of him if she knew.

Fiddleford tried to force his feet to approach the other boy. _Come on, Fiddleford, you were raised to take responsibility for your actions_. He edged around the bookshelf just as Stanford straightened from his hunched position over his books. The other boy turned to stretch his back and Fiddleford automatically pulled a random book from the shelf and opened it, holding it up to cover his face. The page was so close to his eyes that the words blurred together. _What am I doing? I can’t do this. I can’t talk to him. No apology will smooth over the way I acted._ Fiddleford slowly lowered the book to see that Stanford had gone back to his note taking. He took his chance and made a run for it.

Instead of making it out of the library Fiddleford ended up in the restroom, trying to calm down enough to drive. He turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face. When he looked up at himself in the mirror, he sighed at the state he was in. His face was still red but now it was more blotchy, unevenly coloring his pale skin. The edges of his hair were damp and sticking to his forehead, giving him the appearance of a rat someone unsuccessfully attempted to drown. There was no way someone as attractive and well-spoken as Stanford would give him a second chance at a first impression.

“Maybe I can move back to Tennessee. I can live with Cousin Thistlebert. Sure, he’s a bit off but his eccentricities will keep life interesting.” The forced smile he wore as he tried to convince himself of his options, made it look like a deranged stranger was staring back at him from the mirror. “You really ought to stop talking to yourself, Fiddleford, or everyone will start to think you’re the one who’s a bit off,” he said as he shook his head at his reflection.

After a few more deep breaths he left the restroom and headed to the nearby doors that led outside. He was so focused on getting out the library doors that he didn’t see someone else coming from the opposite direction. They slammed into each and both leapt back from the impact.

Fiddleford froze upon seeing that it was Stanford that he’d run into and he had sent the other boy’s books tumbling to the floor. “I am so sorry!” he apologized a bit too loudly causing a nearby librarian to shush aggressively at him. He stooped down to collect the books at the same time as Stanford, but somehow they narrowly managed to avoid bumping heads. It was a small mercy.

“It’s fine,” Stanford insisted as they both stood. “I should have watched where I was going…”

There was a moment where Fiddleford wasn’t sure if Stanford was waiting for him to speak or if the other boy was formulating words in his head. Then Stanford gave him a strained smile and said “I should go.”

Stanford turned and went through the doors, all in one smooth motion. A panicky impulse pushed Fiddleford to go after him. He burst out of the library and ran to catch up with the other teen.

“No, it- it’s not fine!” he shouted, sounding a bit hysterical. This startled the other boy and he stopped in his tracks out of shock. “I wasn’t thinking ‘bout how you felt,” Fiddleford continued, knowing that he needed to get this out before he lost his nerve or sent Stanford fleeing for the hills to get away from him. “I was so rude at that party! I touched your hands without askin’, and I said so many insensitive things to ya. I made you go with me into that bedroom. I probably scared ya. The only explanation I can give is that I got high before the party cause I get real nervous ‘round people, but I wanted to make friends, and I know it’s no excuse!” He watched as Stanford raised an eyebrow at the word vomit he was spewing. As much as he wanted to leave it at that and run, Fiddleford found himself wanting another chance. There was just something about Stanford that made him want to be liked by him. “Now you must thing I’m some sort of man-slut, drug addict, but I- I don’t smoke pot regularly, that was only the third time, I swear! I just… I’m sorry.”

Fiddleford looked down and stared at the uneven sidewalk, unable to meet the other boy’s eyes. He could feel himself trembling as he waited for some kind of response. Then a hand rested on his shoulder and he looked up at its owner. Stanford was smiling kindly at him and he wondered how that was possible.

“I understand. I also get nervous around people sometimes. Actually, I was having a panic attack at the party when I found you in that room playing the banjo. Your music was… calming.”

Fiddleford felt his face heat at the compliment. He had helped Stanford without even knowing. “Well, I’m glad I could be of service,” he said with a shy smile.

“And, Fiddleford,” Stanford lifted his hand. It hung in midair as he seemed to hesitate. Everything stopped and they both held their breaths. Then Stanford lightly touched the side of Fiddleford’s face. “I didn’t mind the make out session. It- uh… it was quite… enjoyable.”

Fiddleford swallowed hard several times before finding the words to respond. “Oh… that- that’s good to know. I’ve been so worried these past few days that I… well, that I may have forced myself on you. I’ve been playin’ back those moments in my head and I was afraid that I’d only imagined you being interested in me. I… uh… I was very distracted by your hands so… I thought I may have missed some signal that you weren’t...” he trailed off and gave some vague wave of his hand. Fiddleford looked away again, embarrassed at how entranced he’d been by those extra fingers when he’d been high. That night Stanford’s hands had seemed like the most interesting and beautiful things he’d ever seen. He still thought they were.

“It’s funny,” Stanford started slowly as he lowered his hand. Fiddleford got the distinct feeling that whatever he was about to say wasn’t intended to be humorous. “I thought that you wouldn’t be interested in me anymore.”

“Why would you think a thing like that?”

“Because of the whole thing with the ghost. Everyone seems to think that I hid… like a coward.”

The way Stanford said the word “coward” with such contempt made Fiddleford shrink in on himself as his cheeks glowed red with humiliation. “I- I don’t think that. I saw you… I saw you send that ghost away with that spell or exorcism or whatever you were doing when you said all that Latin soundin’ stuff. You were real brave, Stanford.”

Stanford blinked in surprise. “You know that I- But how do you know that I did that?”

“I was hidin’ in that room with all the crates,” Fiddleford confessed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Like a coward.”

“That doesn’t make you a coward,” Stanford backtracked. He put a hand on Fiddleford’s arm and looked up at him with a concerned frown. “You’re new to Gravity Falls and have no idea how to fight a ghost! Anyone in their right mind would run. My brother and I have been dealing with these anomalies for several years now. We know how to fight them. That’s why I’m so frustrated everyone thinks I couldn’t handle it… that I was afraid.”

“Well, I saw what ya did. I know that you didn’t back down.” That must have been the right thing to say, because Stanford lit up at the statement.

 

* * *

 

When Fiddleford offered to give him a ride back home, Ford had hesitated. Even after making out with the banjo player, even after the revelation that he had seen Ford save the day, he still hesitated to trust the other teen. Part of him wondered if it was going to turn out to be a trick or a prank. That part of him wanted to push Fiddleford away and call the whole thing off.

But there was another part of Ford that desperately wanted to keep alive the hope that Fiddleford really did like him. He wanted to imagine showing this boy the wonders of Gravity Falls, making him see that there was nothing to fear, not when Ford was there. It might not just be a fantasy. _Is there really any harm in trying?_

So, Ford said yes to the ride in Fiddleford’s pick-up truck and found out a few more things about the banjo player along the way. Fiddleford was sixteen, had fixed up the pickup truck that used to belong to his grandfather, was a gifted engineer, built his first automated feeding trough for the pigs on his family’s hog farm when he was seven, and liked the nickname Fidds.

Ford didn’t lie to himself, he enjoyed hearing himself talk, but he found that he could listen to Fidds and his southern drawl for hours. He was relieved to find that the other teen was his intellectual equal if not more advanced in some areas. It was always a bit of a disappointment to have to adapt his conversation for the intelligence level of others. Spending time with Fidds was stimulating… in many ways.

They got to the bed and breakfast all too quickly. Fidds parked outside and awkwardly gestured to Ford’s home. “Here we are,” he said, voice rising an octave.

Ford couldn’t really explain it but he found this version of Fidds more endearing than the laid-back, overly touchy one.

“Here we are indeed.” He cleared his throat and waited a moment to see if the older boy would make a move. When he didn’t Ford took the initiative, now feeling more sure that this was real. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Fidds’ cheek. “Thank you for the ride.”

Fidds’ eyes went wide and seemed too stunned by the contact to respond. Ford turned to get out of the truck, feeling somewhat embarrassed now. After opening the door, he paused and turned back. Acting on impulse, he grabbed a pen from his bag and grabbed Fidds’ hand. He wrote down his phone number on the older boy’s palm. “This is my phone number. Go ahead and call any time before ten. After ten, Lucy gets a bit irritated if the phone rings.”

“Oh, okay,” Fidds finally replied. “I-I’ll call you later then.”

Ford smiled and fought back the urge to kiss Fidds again. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

 

* * *

 

Stan was using borrowed tools to put up new shelves in the cellar. With help from Lizzie and Chris, they were only a few weeks away from being ready for the grand opening. And yet, Stan was ambivalent. He had imagined standing side by side with Ford to cut the ribbon with a set of comically large scissors on the big day. It wouldn’t be the same without his twin.

He wanted to make up with Stanford. Everything that had happened at the Summerween party seemed so petty now that it was days later. Anyone who talked to him about it got a proper run down of the fact he and Ford had defeated the ghost together. He’d done his part to fix things, but Ford wasn’t there with an apology.

For the first time in his life Stan genuinely felt like he hadn’t done anything wrong. While he wanted to patch things up with his brother, he refused to cave in and admit a wrong-doing that never happened. The most he was willing to do was apologize for the things he said during their argument after the party.

The whine of the drill didn’t do as much as he’d hoped to distract him from his thoughts of Ford. The way his brother had claimed to not need him had him contemplating if Ford had ever actually cared about him. _Did he only ever tolerate me because I made him look even better by comparison?_

“Stop it, Stanley,” he muttered to himself. “He’ll come around, like Lizzie said.”

He grabbed a new screw out of the cardboard box on the tool bench and turned back to the shelf he was putting up. He whistled as he worked, intermittently singing random lyrics along with the tune. “Singing the drilling song, putting up shelves, gotta shoplift some more screws cause I’m almost out.” _Not thinking about Ford…_

He finished putting in the final screw and pulled on the shelf to test its sturdiness. The sound of someone clearing their throat behind him made him jump. Stan spun around to find Ford standing there with his hands held behind his back. His twin was taking in the sight of the almost finished museum of weirdness.

There were only a couple of displays up currently. One was a taxidermy rabbit with glued on antlers and the other was a real photograph he had taken of the barfing fairies. Having someone else looking around made him all too aware of the empty space still left and very conscious of the lack of exhibits.

“I have more stuff planned,” Stan promised as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “This is just the beginning.” The need he felt to prove himself to Ford made him feel sick to his stomach. It was too close a reminder of how he would seek out his father’s approval. _Ford isn’t Pa._

“It looks interesting,” Ford said before turning his gaze on Stan. His twin adjusted his glasses nervously. “Lizzie… Lizzie told me that you’ve been telling people about my part in fighting the ghost.”

“Yeah,” Stan shrugged his shoulders. Did Ford seriously think that he was just going to hide his brother’s brave actions from the town? “I mean, half of the people who were there think it was just an awesome prank and everyone who wasn’t there doesn’t believe a word of it, but I still tell them that you did the most important part.” He really thought that distracting the ghost was probably a bit more important but it seemed like Ford needed an ego boost at the moment if he was going to get this forgiveness train chugging along.

Ford’s unreadable expression softened into something that was almost a smile. It made the tightness that Stan hadn’t even realized was in his chest until now loosen. Was this really working? Were they going to fix this? Stan could only hope.

“I appreciate that, Stanley.” Ford’s hands relaxed at his sides, a sign that he wasn’t putting up his guard any longer. “But, you do understand why I was upset, right?”

The ugly thoughts from earlier pushed their way to the forefront of Stan’s mind, like a particularly annoying fly. He wanted to silently shoo it away but maybe what he needed was for Ford to use his gift of logic to debunk the theory. “Well, I know it’s definitely not that you secretly want me to always be in your shadow, cause my stupid self always makes you look even better by comparison,” he said with a painfully forced laugh. Oh, he hadn’t meant for it to come out so raw and honest. It felt like a scab he had picked at and pulled off too soon. It stung and burned… and he wanted to put a bandage on it to shield it from Ford’s eyes. “You’d never want that… would you, Sixer?” He sounded so small and uncertain. That wasn’t him. That wasn’t how he was supposed to sound. He was almost graduated from high school dammit. He shouldn’t sound like a lost, little kid.

Ford’s eyes had gone wide and his eyebrows had travelled so far up his forehead that they had disappeared behind messy bangs. It took a moment for the shock to wear off, then Ford just looked tired. He let out a long-suffering sigh, then spoke. “No, that’s not what I want. And I… I can’t believe that you’d think I’d want something like that! I was upset that I wasn’t being recognized for something _I_ did not because _you_ were being recognized for something _you_ did.”

Stan couldn’t blame Ford for being outraged by the accusation. _Good going, Stan. Always fucking things up. You were so fucking self-righteous and overconfident and now you’ve turned the tables on your own fucking self._ “I’m sorry, Ford. That was a stupid thing for me to say. I’m an idiot.”

Ford opened and closed his mouth. He then shook his head. Stan was at a loss trying to figure out what his brother was going to say next.

“No, I’m not going to indulge your self-deprecation, Stanley.”

Stan wasn’t sure what that meant but he had a feeling it wasn’t good. There was a bitter edge that made him flinch away from the words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m tired.” Ford looked up at the ceiling, as if the answers to all of their problems were written there, like a cheat sheet for life. He let out a long-suffering sigh and looked back at Stan. “I want to be done fighting but I’m not sure where we stand. You seem to think that I… I- what? That I’m some sort of evil twin who only wants to see you fail?”

“That’s not what I said!” Ford was putting words in his mouth. Acting like he was perpetually victimized by Stan. He didn’t want to always be the bad guy. _Pa was always blaming me when something went wrong. Is that how it’s always going to be?_

Ford removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes before putting them back on. “This is a mess. For now, let’s just agree to be civil. We do have to live and work under the same roof after all.”

The agreement felt cold and logical. It was very… “Ford”. “Fine,” Stan agreed. “If that’s what you really want.”

“It is.”

And that was the end of that.

 

* * *

 

Ford stared up at the ceiling, listening to Stan’s snores as he tried to calm his brain enough to sleep. He wanted everything to be okay between him and Stan. He’d thought that his joy over the fact that Fiddleford knew the truth about who had defeated the ghost meant that he was ready to forgive his brother. It was almost enough. Ford had been on the brink of being willing to forget that the whole situation had even occurred, but…

“He doesn’t get it,” Ford muttered to himself.

Stan didn’t _really_ understand why’d he’d been upset. It was heartbreaking that his own twin thought that he needed Stan to be put down to boost himself up, but correcting that didn’t mean his twin suddenly understood how hurt he was by the whole incident.

Ford found that he wasn’t even really angry anymore. He was tired. He wanted the fight to be done and the hard feelings to disappear. Unfortunately, every time his mind wandered back to thoughts of the party, the resentment and betrayal stubbornly remained.

Ford opened his eyes and he was startled to find that he was back in what Bill called the dreamscape. Their chess game was set up, all the pieces where they had left them. He sat down in his chair and waited for his muse to make an appearance.

Ford was happy to take his mind off of his brother in the meantime by studying the board and thinking through the strategies Bill had taught him so far. Bill had been patient and gracious the previous night showing how the pieces moved, like how the knight moved in a “w” shape and the pawn only moved sideways on every even numbered turn.

“Hey, there, genius of the century!”

Ford looked up and smiled upon seeing Bill. “Bill, it’s good to see you,” he said with conviction. It felt like he could finally breathe, being reassured that his muse was indeed real. “How are things in the…uh… mindscape?”

Bill chuckled and Ford bristled at the way it sounded a bit patronizing. Then again to an omniscient being any inferior lifeform would probably seem like a kid playing dress up in his dad’s too-large suit. Ford resolved to not take it personally.

“It’s the same old song and dance, day in and day out, Sixer.” The triangle leaned in conspiratorially. “I’ll let you in on a little secret though. Your twin dreams up some weird stuff. I checked in on his dreamscape for a moment before heading here.”

“What?”

Ford’s chest constricted with something like jealousy. _But it’s not jealousy. Bill chose me not Stan._ His fists clenched in his lap, short fingernails digging painfully into his palms.

“Don’t get me wrong your organized genius is very much preferred to the kooky conglomeration of whatever goes on in your brother’s head, but sometimes a muse needs some entertainment. And Stan Pines is always a riot in any dimension.”

Focusing on the pain in his hands caused him to miss the last part of Bill’s statement. What he did catch was that Bill seemed to enjoy slipping into Stan’s mind. _Bill thinks Stan is entertaining. Does he think I’m boring?_

“I would rather not talk about Stanley,” he pushed out. Each word was like a boulder he was struggling to move.

“Did I say something wrong?” Bill floated up and over the table then over to the left side of Ford. He ruffled the teen’s hair with his stick-like hand. “Talk to me, braniac.”

Ford sighed heavily and his shoulders drooped. Bill operated on a higher plain. He would probably think Ford was being petty. “It’s nothing… my brother and I just aren’t on the best terms at the moment.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. You and Question Mark may be twins but your minds could not be more different. Just remember that you’ll always be meant for more.”

Ford perked up at that. Stan was getting his fifteen minutes of fame but Bill had said that _he_ was going to change the world. He could tolerate Stanley hogging the spotlight for now. One day the tables would turn and he would be the bigger person and give his twin the proper credit should he lend him a hand… not that Ford would need it.

Bill floated back to his spot across the table and gestured to their chess game. “Ready to pick up where we left off?”

Now more at ease, Ford nodded and picked up his queen. “Ready.” He cleared his throat as he set the queen back down. “Bill?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you… for choosing me. I won’t let you down.”

There was a beat where the triangle adjusted his bow tie and smiled with his eye. “Of course you won’t! I made sure to choose carefully this time around.”

 

 


	16. Idol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Ford have not learned their lesson and decide to go to another party. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how long it took me to get this chapter up. I had it done and then I changed something in the story and had to go back and rewrite part of the chapter. I have the next one written and am working on chapter 18. I'm not going to lie, chapter updates will be slow from here because I'm almost caught up to what I've written and although I have the whole story planned, I am a bit pressed for time on when I can write. I will try for at least one update or more a month, but we'll see what happens. Thank you for being so understanding.

It had been a week, a very long week, since Ford and Stan had come to their uneasy agreement. He was trying to be okay with his twin still getting attention in town from their peers. Most people were convinced by now that everything with the ghost was a really great prank, but all that meant was that they were commending Stan on making it the best Summerween party Gravity Falls had ever seen. Ford at least had been promoted from coward to sidekick.

Ford got his own share of pats on the back, but none of them were satisfying and at least half of them were patronizing. The only praise that he could feel proud of was what he got from Bill. His muse had been impressed by how quickly Ford was grasping the taste of mathematics and theory from the multiverse outside of his own dimension. All of it was beyond Ford’s imagination. He knew it all had to be real. Not even he, having experienced Gravity Falls, could dream up such things.

As Ford saw it, Bill Cipher was his friend and savior. This interdimensional being saw his potential and was nurturing it. No one else in his life understood him this well. …and he’d only known Bill a week.

Besides Bill, what kept him from snapping every time someone brought up the Summerween party was Fiddleford. He was pretty sure that they were dating, but when he tried to ask, the older boy blushed and stuttered so much he couldn’t get a straightforward answer. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t really mind the lack of definition to their relationship. He was still enjoying it none the less. While Bill was a bright bolt of lightning that kept Ford on his toes, Fiddleford was the calming rain that grounded him. Neither of them could really be what Stan was for him but they were enough, until he could sort out things with his twin.

Ford had just finished his chores and was about to go out to check in on the plaidypuses. He was filling his canteen at the kitchen sink when he heard the phone ring. His heart skipped at the sound, hoping that it was Fiddleford. He ran over with his half-filled canteen sloshing dangerously.

“Pines’ residence,” he answered, doing his best to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible.

“Stanford!”

Ford sighed. “Chris.”

“As much as I love our clever banter,” Chris chirped cheerfully. “I’m calling for Stanley.”

Ford almost let temptation get the better of him and hung up the phone. Instead he rolled his eyes to himself and said, “He’s in the cellar. Let me go get him.”

Ford dropped the phone with a thud onto the end table. He could hear a tinny voice call from the speaker, “Hey! That was loud!” as he walked away to go get Stan.

He set his canteen on the kitchen counter and as he walked outside Ford ran a hand through his hair. It was getting more difficult to be around Stan. His twin strained to act like everything was fine between them, but Ford was feeling the distance growing between them more than ever. He was finding himself annoyed with the little things that he used to appreciate about his brother, noticing every action that could be perceived as being motivated by selfishness.

Ford pulled open the cellar door and walked down to find Stan and Shermie sanding down the base to a display case.

“Stan, Chris is on the phone for you,” he announced.

Stan straightened and cracked his back. “Thanks, bro bro.” He turned to his older brother. “Do you mind if we take a break, Sherm?”

Shermie stood and let out a heavy sigh. “A break sounds good.” He sat down on a used couch Stan had gotten from the Corduroys after Charlie built a new one for his parents’ anniversary. “I’ll come up in a little bit. I’m just… worn out.”

Stan smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “Age catching up with you, old man?”

“I am not even thirty!” Shermie exclaimed indignantly. “I am still young and spry, you- you… hooligan!”

Ford ignored his twin’s laughter and his older brother’s attempt at a smooth recovery as he approached one of the completed displays. There was a series of small statues arranged on a refurbished end table. They looked like odd knick knacks that one might get as a gift from a toddler, or a very inexperienced pottery student. There was a price sticker from the thrift shop in town still on one. He shuffled them around as he smiled imagining Chris still on the phone, waiting for Stan to pick up.

The smile fell from his face when he spotted a small, gold statue in the shape of a triangle, with one eye and a top hat. “Stanley, where did you get this?” he asked breathlessly as he turned back to his brothers and held it up.

Stan and Shermie paused in their back and forth to give Ford their attention.

 “Some guys hiking up near those caves you wanted to look at found it half-buried in the ground,” Stan explained with a proud grin on his face. “Its weird so I thought it would be perfect for my museum. They said they almost got attacked by a wolf while they were there so it has an interesting story behind it. They sold it to me for ten bucks and free admission for the grand opening, so I figured ‘why not?’.”

Ford’s grip tightened on the statue. “Can I have it?”

Both of his brothers’ looked startled by the request, and had it been anything else he may have retracted it for fear of seeming rude. This was no time for manners though. This was _his_ muse. _In a way, doesn’t it already belong to me? Bill is my muse, my friend… He would want me to have it. I’m just doing Stan the courtesy of asking first._

Stan ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. You get one freebie. Consider it an early Hanukkah gift.”

Ford felt a giddy rush of relief as Stan turned to Shermie and continued. “You want anything, Sherm? It could be an early retirement gift… cause, ya know, you’re old.”

“I got that, Stanley. Thank you,” Shermie bit out. He went to get up in one smooth motion, but couldn’t seem to get his feet under him. He fell back, sinking further into the well-worn couch. “Dammit.”

Ford heard Stan chuckle at Shermie’s misfortune but was too entranced by the idol in his hands to reprimand his twin for antagonizing their older brother. He couldn’t believe his luck at finding a deeper connection to his muse. It felt right in his hands, like it had always belonged with him.

“Yeah, ‘ha, ha’,” Shermie said dryly. “Don’t you have a friend waiting for you on the phone?”

Stan’s eyes widened with dawning horror. “Shit! I forgot about Chris!”

He darted up the stairs, shoving the door open. It slammed closed behind him, causing Ford and Shermie to flinch at the sound.

Ford turned to leave, wanting to go and find the perfect spot for the likeness of Bill.

“Ford?”

He turned back to Shermie and realized his brother was still sunken into the couch. “Oh, here.” He grabbed Shermie’s arm and helped pull him onto his feet.

“Thanks,” he said with a good-natured chuckle. “But, I actually wanted to say how glad I am that you and Stan made up. It was hard seeing you guys fighting like that. The last time you guys had a falling out that bad was the Matchbox Car Race Debacle of ’61.”

Ford smiled remembering the way that he and Stan had shoved all of their other toys out of the way to clear just enough room on their bedroom floor for the race. They had lined up their cars next to each other and gave them a push. Their respective cars had zoomed across the wood floor toward Fort Stan, which had been declared the finish line. Both cars had reached it at the same time, but they had still fought over who was the winner. They had both ran to Shermie to decide who the winner was. He and Stan had both whined to their older brother, trying to appeal their own case in the face of such an injustice as tying with a twin brother.

But, this was different. It wasn’t some silly toy car race. This was his reputation that had been twisted into some fiction that made Ford out to be first a coward and now someone riding the coattails of his twin brother. That wasn’t him. _Bill told me I am special._

Ford shrugged. “We talked and came to an understanding.” Bitterness crept into his voice without him intending it to.

Shermie gave him a strange look. “An ‘understanding’ doesn’t sound you guys actually worked it out. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

 

* * *

 

Stan picked up the phone and flopped onto the couch with it “Chris? Ya there, buddy?”

“Oh, thank goodness! I was starting to think Stanford left me here without telling you I called.”

Stan chuckled. It wasn’t too unbelievable that that could happen. Ford wasn’t exactly Chris’s biggest fan. “What’s up?”

There was a moment’s hesitation before the other boy began. “Ethan’s party…”

“I told you I’m not going,” Stan replied sternly. He’d already had this conversation at least four times before. Ethan had invited him at the Summerween party and he’d foolishly agreed to go but now that he knew how Ford felt about the whole Summerween incident he was reluctant to go. “Things are still kinda shaky between me and Ford. I wouldn’t want to do anything to fuck it up even more and if I go to this party… I don’t know, I just have a feeling he wouldn’t be happy about it. And, I don’t think I’d be happy if I went either.”

Chris made a loud frustrated noise and Stan pulled the phone away from his ear. When his friend started talking again he hesitantly put it to his ear once more. “Stanley, Ethan is telling people that the party is in your honor! The whole school is going to be there! Auldman Northwest’s hot niece is going to be there! If you don’t show up then you’re going to look like a grade A dick.”

“I have a girlfriend why would I care if Northwest’s hot niece is going to be there?”

“For me, dumbass!”

“Hey!” Stan snapped.

“Sorry.” Chris took a deep breath. “Sorry. Look, Elizabeth told me how much she’s looking forward to going and you know that I’m not getting in unless I have you with me. I’m still on many people’s shit list. Would you please just do me a favor and think about it?”

Stan didn’t answer right away. He was once again the one holding everyone back. Lizzie wouldn’t go without him and Chris wouldn’t _be able_ to go without him. But if he went and Ford found out that it was this weird party celebrating Stan taking down that ghost it would only drive a wedge further between them. He wasn’t an idiot. The resentment was palpable in the tension that entered the air every time they were in the same room together, in the way Ford didn’t call him “Lee” anymore, and in the way Ford still hadn’t told him directly about that guy he was always hanging out with now.

But maybe this was Stan’s chance to get things back to normal. He could use this opportunity to set the record straight in a big way. He could tell everyone how awesome Ford was that night, performing the exorcism. Then maybe he could talk to his brother again without feeling like he was walking on eggshells.

“Alright. I’ll go if I can get Ford to come with us.”

“I- uhh… I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. I mean, he doesn’t-”

“My decision’s final,” Stan spoke over him. “My twin and I are a package deal, always have been, always will be.”

Chris sighed into the phone. “Fine. I get it. If I had a twin, I’d probably feel the same way. Hopefully, I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah. Thanks for understanding. See ya.” Stan hung up and ran a hand through his hair as he let out a slow breath. _Do I really want to take this risk? If I screw this up, that might be it… I may never get Ford back._

Stan jumped, startled by the sound of the back door opening. He spun around to see his twin heading for the kitchen. He forced a smile onto his face. “Poindexter, just the nerd I was looking for!”

Ford set the statue he was still holding down on the counter, and picked up the canteen to finish filling it at the sink. “What did you need?” he asked without much emotion or inflection. He sounded tired.

Stan cleared his throat and hesitated. The confidence he had in his plan was waning, but he couldn’t back out now. “There’s this party tonight and… well… everyone’s gonna be there. Chris, Lizzie, and me were hoping you would come with.”

“Grammar- never mind.” Ford turned off the faucet and closed the lid of the canteen. “I think I’m done with parties for the next thirty years.” He picked up the statue in one hand with the canteen in the other.

Stan’s stomach tied into knots, unsure whether he was relieved or disconcerted. “You could bring that guy you’ve been hanging out with.

Ford had gone to slip past him but paused at the suggestion. They ended up standing too close for comfort and they both stepped back. “He… I…” After clearing his throat Ford tried again. “Fiddleford, doesn’t really like parties either.”

A laugh bubbled up Stan’s throat and he had to choke it back. Laughing at this new friend’s name probably wouldn’t do him any favors with his twin. “Fiddleford? Sexy name. I like it.” He winked and Ford gave him an unimpressed look. “You guys will like this party. I guarantee it.” _If you don’t, I’ll be paying the price._

Ford’s grip on the statue tightened to the point that his knuckles turned white. The air in the room became thick with the tension between them and Stan found himself preparing to backtrack. But, before he could say a word his brother let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, I’ll go for half an hour. Just let me call Fiddleford and see if he wants to join us.”

“Right. Sounds good, bro bro.” Stan swallowed hard, knowing all of this was riding on him. _This has to work. It just has to._

 

* * *

 

Ford was certain that he was an idiot. He had no idea why he was agreeing to go to another party with Stan. He had to be crazy. Repeating the same actions and expecting a different outcome was the very definition of insanity.

Maybe he was hoping that Stan would prove his current perceptions of his twin wrong. Or maybe he was a masochist and wished to inflict himself with more social torture. Either way he was glad to have Fiddleford there as backup.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Ford said as he looked over at Fiddleford from the passenger seat.

Fidds turned onto the dirt road that led to Ethan’s house on the outskirts of town. “I don’t mind so much going to these sorta things if I have someone with me. Usually it’s one of my sisters. They’re all much more outgoing than I am.”

He hadn’t imagined Fidds as having any siblings. The other boy seemed like an only child from the impression he got. Then again he hadn’t really known Fiddleford for very long at all. Ford’s fingers clenched into a fist, resting on his knee. _Do you really know anyone? ~~You never thought Stan would do something like what he did.~~_

“Four sisters. Annie, Joey, Cory, and Goldie. And I have a little brother named Tulley.”

Ford tried to imagine growing up with five siblings in the little apartment above his father’s pawn shop back in Glass Shard Beach. It would have been a nightmare having to share his room with more people than just Stanley. No privacy or independence. “That must be… interesting.”

“Never a dull moment at my house, let me tell ya.” Fidds smiled like he meant it sincerely as a good thing, and Ford felt a twinge of jealousy. He brushed it off.

They pulled onto the long driveway leading up to Ethan’s house to find a herd of cars parked haphazardly near a farmhouse. All the windows were lit up in the twilight of the evening. Teens were freely wandering between being inside and out on the front porch and lawn. A group of girls were showing off, doing cartwheels outside, while some guys stood nearby judging their “efforts”. Some other teens were talking and dancing to the music leaking out through the wide open front door.

Fidds parked a short distance from the house, away from the other cars. Ford didn’t blame him. He didn’t trust any of his peers to have the good sense to not drive drunk.

As they made their way up to the house a loud whistle got their attention from the parked cars. Stan was waving them over, while Lizzie looked annoyed with her hands over her ears, and Chris was removing his fingers from his mouth, grinning proudly at the screechy whistle he had just performed.

“That’s my brother and our friends,” Ford said as they changed direction.

“I got that,” Fidds said, bumping Ford’s shoulder lightly. “He looks just like you. Does he also-”

Ford was a bit exasperated that even Fidds was asking the same question everyone always did. He cut him off gruffly, just wanting it over with. “Have six fingers? No, he only has the normal five.”

“I was gonna ask if he usually wears glasses like you do. But the finger thing is good to know too, I suppose.” Fidds laughed nervously and adjusted his own glasses.

Ford blushed at his embarrassing assumption. He grasped Fidds hand from where it was hanging at his side. “Sorry. I’m just used to people asking about why we don’t both have six fingers.”

“I won’t lie. The question did cross my mind, but I figured it might be a tad rude to ask.”

“You might be the only person in our entire dimension who realizes that, Fidds.”

Fidds frowned in confusion at his wording but then laughed. Ford joined in laughing at their ridiculousness. They were still laughing when they reached Stan, Lizzie, and Chris.

“You guys made it!” Stan exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “And you must be the mysteriously sexy Fiddlesticks.”

A bright red blush spread through Fiddleford’s face as he stuttered out, “I’m not- I mean… my name- my name isn’t Fiddle- sexy?”

Ford sent Stan a glare for teasing Fiddleford. It seemed that his twin was still struggling to think about anyone else’s feelings but his own. “This is Fiddleford McGucket. His family recently moved to town. We’re…” He looked to Fidds still unsure about what the other boy wanted to label them as. Fiddleford was busy studiously staring at his shoes. He wasn’t getting any answer right then. “We’re friends. Fiddleford, this is my brother Stanley and his girlfriend Lizzie Corduroy.”

“It’s good to finally meet ya, Fiddleford,” Stan said in a sincere enough manner that Ford found himself relaxing minutely.

Lizzie gave a small wave from where she was leaning against the hood of the station wagon. “Welcome to Gravity Falls.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Ford want to rip his own ears off. Chris stepped forward from his spot next to Lizzie. “I’m Christopher Valentino. I’m Stanley’s and Elizabeth’s friend,” he said pointedly before reaching out to shake Fiddleford’s hand.

Fidds looked uncomfortably between Ford and Chris but still shook the boy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet y’all. I haven’t really had the chance to make any friends other than Ford. Didn’t really have many friends back in Tennessee either come to think of it…” He muttered the last part but Ford still heard it. He gently squeezed Fidds hand that he still had a hold of.

“Well,” Stan announced clapping his hands together. “We should get inside. Charlie’s already in there with everyone else having a good time and I say we should join ‘em.”

As they all followed Stan inside, Ford spoke lowly to Fidds. He was desperate to understand what they had between them. He could adjust his mindset to whatever Fidds defined them as but the not knowing was getting to him.

They had crossed the threshold into the overheated, stuffy atmosphere of a house full of teenagers. “Fiddleford, are we… together or is this-”

“Ya know, I’m thirsty… very thirsty. Let’s get some punch or water, or somethin’…”

Fidds moved quickly across the room to where a giant bowl of punch was set up on the dining table alongside various snack foods. Ford sighed as he watched the older boy taking his time getting refreshments. He found himself beginning to question if Fidds was really what he wanted. _He’s great, intelligent, interesting to talk to, amazing kisser, but what’s the point of all of that if he won’t tell me what he wants. ~~Is he too afraid to tell me he doesn’t want to be with me anymore?~~_

An arm was thrown around his shoulders and he turned to see Stan. His twin had one arm around Ford and another around Lizzie. Chris had already detached from their group to go join in with a poker game starting in the next room.

Stan leaned to talk in a not-quite-whisper next to his ear. “So, Sixer, is Fidds the guy that you were having a ‘good time’ with at Summerween?”

An irritated barb was on the tip of his tongue but then he saw the hopeful expression on his twin’s face. The words faded as quickly as he had thought of them. “Yeah, but I’m not sure he wants to continue that trend.” Ford pushed Stan’s arm off. He didn’t want to go into this with Stan, especially in the middle of a party full of their peers. “I have to use the restroom.”

 

* * *

 

Stan watched helplessly as Ford went to go find a bathroom. He turned to his girlfriend and, unsure what to say, made a frustrated sound. “What’s up with him?” he said after a minute. “I thought he’d maybe _want_ to talk about the guy he’s been making googly eyes at whenever he watches him drive away in that ratty truck.”

Lizzie frowned and he watched as her eyes landed on Fiddleford downing his third cup of punch at the refreshment table. “Seems like he’s worried Fiddleford isn’t making googly eyes back.”

Stan felt his stomach drop. Was it possible that this gangly nerd was playing some sick game with Ford? All he knew was that this guy was making Ford feel bad and he wasn’t going to let it continue.

“I think it’s time to have a talk with this guy.” He cracked his knuckles and waited for Lizzie to tell him they should stay out of it. That would be the sensible thing to do and Lizzie was always that sensible voice when Ford wasn’t. He would argue but it was the expected process by now.

Lizzie put her hands on her hips, bunching her skirt slightly. “Let’s go.”

“What? You’re not going to try to convince me to stay out of it, that we need to let Ford figure out things with this guy?”

“No. I’m with you on this one, babe.”

Stan grinned. “Marry me?”

“Shut up,” she replied with a smirk.

By the time they made it over to the refreshments Fiddleford was downing his fifth cup of punch and some teens nearby were giving him odd looks.

“Hey, Fiddlenerd,” Stan greeted as he patted the older boy on the back so hard he sprayed some of the punch back into his cup.

Fidds gave his cup a disgusted look and set it on the table. “Hi there, Stanley and uh, Lizzie, right?”

“Right,” Lizzie confirmed. “We wanted to speak with you… in private.”

“What? Why? Where’s Stanford?” Fidds was looking around over people’s heads for some sign of Ford.

“Bathroom,” Stan answered. He then took a firm hold of Fiddleford’s upper arm. “It’ll only be a minute, buddy.”

They led him into a spare bedroom that held a twin-sized bed, a writing desk, and a filing cabinet. Lizzie locked the door behind them with a loud click. Fiddleford surprised Stan by startling at the sound and jerking his arm out of his grasp.

“Whaddya want, huh?” he demanded, backing away from them.

Realizing her mistake, Lizzie unlocked the door. “We just want to talk,” she said holding her hands out placating. “Calm down.”

“Where I come from we don’ kidnap people just to talk to ‘em. These sorta situations usually end in being found face down in the ol’ creek with a bullet hole in ya back.”

“Whoa there, Fiddlenerd. No one’s getting shot.” He realized how it must have seemed but the guy was talking about getting shot for God’s sake. “God, you’re a twitchy one, ain’tcha.”

“We want to talk about Ford,” Lizzie jumped in. “He’s upset.”

At that Fiddleford looked down and shoved his hands into his pockets. “That’s not… that isn’t somethin’ I wanna talk about, specially not with a couple of people I barely know.”

“He’s my brother!” Stan snapped. This guy wasn’t getting out of the conversation that easily. Ford wasn’t some shameful subject matter to be dismissed at the first sign of discomfort. “If you’re gonna break up with him then do it. Don’t string him along like he’s a novelty. He has feelings. And you better not fucking say it’s cause of his fingers cause then you just might end up with a bullet in your back.”

“I like him a lot!” Fiddleford exclaimed voice rising several octaves. “I- I’m scared, okay… He’s out of my league. Ford is this handsome, worldly, city boy who hunts ghosts for fun and I’m just this cowardly hick who has to get high in order to be able to talk to people. What if he finds out that there are better options out there and he… he breaks up with me?”

Stan let out a low whistle at the older boy’s confession. He had prepared all sorts of responses for any dickish thing Fiddleford could say. This revelation was not something he was prepared for. _At least the problem is that he thinks Ford’s too good for him. I can work with that._ “That’s a lot to unpack there, Fiddlenerd.”

“I know. My sister says that I’m overthinkin’ it.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and shuffled his feet.

“I would have to agree with her,” Lizzie said as she stepped closer. “Not all high school relationships last, but the fear of it ending shouldn’t keep you from trying in the first place.”

“Yeah,” Stan jumped in hoping to encourage Fiddleford. He could tell how much Ford and Fidds liked each other. It would be a shame if they never got the chance to see where it could go. He looked to Lizzie and thought about how happy he was with her. He wanted his twin to have something like that too. “ Ya know, I’ve seen Ford watch as you leave whenever you’ve dropped him off at home. He gets this look like… like you’re a really complex equation that he can’t wait to solve. And believe me, when it comes to Ford that means he really, _really_ likes you.”

Fiddleford cautiously allowed a crooked smile to pull at his lips. “R-really?”

“You have my Stan Pines guarantee,” he said as he crossed his arms over his chest and winked. The smile slipped off of Fidds’ face and Stan wondered if he’d said something wrong.

“What if I’ve waited too long?” the older boy questioned as he tugged at handfuls of his blond hair. “What if he decided I ain’t worth all this trouble? I’ve ruined my chances with him, haven’t I?”

“Hey, calm down,” Lizzie said as she approached him. She gently took his hands in hers and he released his hold on the clumps of his hair. “You haven’t ruined anything. All you need to do is go ask him.”

Fiddleford slowly nodded then turned his gaze on Stan. “You know him better than anyone. Do ya think I still have a chance?”

“Most definitely!” Stan replied before striding over to the door. He threw it open and gestured to the threshold. “Let’s go unite you two in nerd love!”

The older boy cleared his throat and patted down his hair. “Okay, I- I can do this… right?”

“Of course you can,” Lizzie encouraged, giving him a light push from behind.

Stan found himself unable to keep the smile off of his face. He felt like he was finally making up for the fact that he had made his brother so unhappy as a result of the Summerween incident. _He can’t possibly still resent me after I get these two nerds together._

 

* * *

 

Ford stayed in the bathroom cleaning his glasses, splashing water on his face, reading the stack of _Better Homes and Gardens_ magazines in the magazine rack, until he couldn’t justify hiding out any longer. He wished that there was a way for him to talk to Bill while awake, then at least he’d have someone who cared about him to socialize with until he could finally leave. He’d thought Fiddleford actually liked him but now he couldn’t be sure. Bill was blunt, upfront with his intentions, and while his statements of truth could sting at times, he appreciated them more than Fiddleford’s desperate avoidance.

He finally ventured out of the bathroom when he looked down at his watch and realized that it was nearing nine o’clock. They’d been there for almost an hour. Maybe he could convince Charlie to give him a ride home.

He wandered about, searching for some sign of the muscular, young man with shaggy, red hair. He was passing through the open dining room when the music cut out and the party’s host called from the landing of the staircase. “Attention all you ladies and gents!” The football player laughed as if he had made a joke and took a swig from his paper cup. “This is usually the part where I brag that my party is so much better than Charlie Corduroy’s Summerween shitfest. No offense, Corduroy!”

“Shut your face, Foster!” Charlie called back with a good-natured laugh.

A chorus of laughter came up from the attendees and petered off. Ford crossed his arms over his chest, realizing that he was stuck there at least until Ethan’s little speech was finished. _I didn’t even want to come in the first place…_

Ethan waved off the laughter and continued on. “This time I have something a little different in store for you guys. I wanted to bring Stan Pines up to tell us all about how he pulled off that amazing prank at Summerween. Come on, Stan! We’re waiting for you.”

Ford watched a ripple go through the crowd as Stan was pushed to the front. He climbed the stairs, continuously glancing into the sea of teens, searchingly. They locked eyes, and Stan seemed to be trying to communicate something. Ford looked away. _Why did I do that? Why did I ignore him? ~~Because he brought you here just so that you could witness whatever self-aggrandizing speech he’s about to make.~~_

Ethan pushed Stan forward to look over the railing at their peers. The football player said something to Stan that no one else could hear and Stan nodded in response. Ethan stepped back.

“Hey everyone,” Stan began. “So, uh… first off, the thing at Summerween that was a real-” He paused staring out at everyone. His expression had gone stoic. Ford unconsciously took a step forward, wondering what was going on with his twin.

Stan suddenly grinned and gave a light chuckle. “That was a good one, wasn’t it? Ford and I, we worked pretty hard on it.” A chorus of agreement rose up from the crowd, before he continued. “I can’t tell you guys too much. A showman never reveals his secrets and all that, but I can give you a show here and now.”

Stan started in on a dramatic retelling of the Summerween events, capturing everyone’s attention, as Ethan retreated down the stairs. Ford was caught between appreciating the fact that Stan had thought things through enough to run with the prank story and wanting to roll his eyes at his twin soaking in the attention. _Gravity Falls isn’t ready to acknowledge the existence of supernatural creatures, why else would everyone have, silently agreed to explain it away with the prank story. It would be better to keep all of it under wraps until such a time as they had a platform to help the world accept such things._

Ford had thought it would be insufferable to listen to Stan telling his side of the story, but he found his resolve to hold his grudge against his brother waning. Stan was mentioning him at every step of the (he had to admit) entertaining retelling. At least his twin was holding true to his resolution of ensuring everyone knew Ford was involved.

A hand landed heavily on Ford’s shoulder. He startled at the sudden contact and turned to see Ethan. Of course he had seen the football player around school and in town but had never talked to the guy one on one. Ford made to shrug out of the hand on his shoulder, finding the gesture too familiar for someone he barely knew. Ethan gave him a tight smile and tightened his grip. Fingers dug into Ford’s shoulder and the joint ached from being squeezed. An alarm went off in his head, fight or flight demanding that he act. The other boy was larger and stronger than him plus there were too many people around that were much closer to Ethan than Ford. _I could run but how would that look. ~~Coward.~~_

Ethan leaned in close to his ear. “I don’t remember inviting you to my party. Is that what you do, tag along with your more popular twin brother? You want to get in on the spotlight ‘cause nobody likes you? Everyone knows you got him to lie for you and make it sound like you had something to do with his awesome prank. Do everyone a favor and let go of his coattails. It’s pathetic at this point.” He released Ford’s shoulder and began to pull away before leaning in one last time to hiss, “Oh, and get out of my house.”

Anger built inside Ford’s chest like a shaken soda can that could explode at any moment. Words rushed to the tip of his tongue begging to be shouted at the top of his lungs. _“Bill Cipher, muse of history’s greatest thinkers, chose me! He said that I am special, that I will change the world! I would not stoop to riding my brother’s coattails!”_ But, he couldn’t say any of that out loud. To them, he was nothing but a joke and that was how he would stay… at least until Bill showed him how to prove his genius to the rest of the world.

Ford’s outrage dulled and fled, leaving defeat behind. Ethan was smirking at him, arms crossed over his chest triumphantly. There was no point in pushing or fighting. Ford turned and pushed through the crowd, heading for the front door.

“Hey, Ford! Where ya goin’?” It was Stan calling to him from the staircase landing. Ford paused, wincing at his twin calling attention to his attempted departure. He silently begged Stan to drop it.

Instead his brother continued to call out to him. “Get up here, bro bro! They all know what I was doin’ during the ghost thing. What the people really want to know is what cool ghost stuff you were doing behind the scenes. He’s basically like some ghost fighting ninja!”

Ford turned back to find that all eyes were on him. Stan was expecting him to put on a good show. No one thought the ghost was real but they were enjoying Stan’s supposed “story”. He could go up there and tell an exaggerated tale of events that everyone would forget the next day, and in the process anger a football player who could shatter all of his bones with one punch, or he could walk out the door and remain Stan’s nerdy twin brother. Before he could decide his fate Ethan ran back up the stairs and grabbed Stan’s shoulder. He was whispering furiously, a bit of spittle flying and hitting Stan’s cheek.

Stan’s expression quickly morphed from being perplexed to full of barely concealed rage. He calmly wiped the spit from his face before turning back to the crowd. “My brother, Stanford and me are a team, a partnership, ya got that! If I hear anyone talking bad ‘bout him I’ll give you a knuckle sandwich to chew on!” He turned back to the football player and glared. “Ya got that, asshole?”

Ethan shoved Stan dangerously close to the steps. “Get out of my house! Take your freak brother and your ugly as fuck girlfriend and get the hell out of my house!”

Ford flinched at the word even though he hadn’t heard it in years. _Freak. Six-fingered freak._

“What’d you just say!” Stan demanded, shoving Ethan back.

“You heard me!”

Stan’s fist was clenched by his side. Ford waited to hear the tell-tale crack of a fist colliding with flesh and bone. Part of him would find it satisfying, but another part of him was fearful this would end with Stan once again putting someone else in the hospital for his sake… and now Lizzie’s too.

Stan grabbed the front of Ethan’s shirt in handfuls and pulled the football player in so the he was mere inches from his face. The crowd seemed to be collectively holding their breath as they waited for Stan to smash Ethan’s face in. Then Stan said something to Ethan that no one else could quite make out. The football player’s face paled. Stan released his grip and calmly descended the steps.

Ford didn’t need to push through the crowd to get to Stan. The other teens were suddenly hyper aware of his presence and made room for him to get to his twin. By the time he made it to Stan, he could see Lizzie, Charlie, and Fiddleford making their way towards them.

“Let’s get out of here,” Stan bit out through clenched teeth.

No one argued or even made a noise to agree with the sentiment. They all followed Stan toward the front door. As they went, Charlie threw an arm around Lizzie’s shoulders and directed a raised middle finger back at Ethan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I just want to again state that I am so grateful for my commenters! In fact, it was FriendlyCybird who gave me the idea in a comment to make Chris a Valentino back in one of my earlier chapters. I decided to go ahead and confirm it here. Chris would be, I think, Robbie's second cousin (his father's first cousin).


	17. Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the hours after the party there are resolutions, but as much Stan wants everything to be okay, there is more to those he cares about than he knows or is willing to admit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There has a been a new tag added. In this chapter there is beginning a storyline about gambling addiction.

6 hours after Ethan’s party…

 

“One grand gesture and you’ve already forgiven Question Mark?” Bill asked in disbelief. He was jotting down some equations in midair, only using the tip of his finger and paused to turn to Ford with his hands on where the teen imagined his muse’s hips to be. “I would have made him suffer a bit more, if I were you.”

Ford could hear the distaste in Bill’s voice. His muse wasn’t satisfied with the development. “Bill, did I do something wrong? Stanley made strides to fix his mistakes. It wasn’t as simple as a ‘grand gesture’.” Now he was the one expressing disbelief.

The muse sighed as he rolled his eye. He took a moment to adjust his bowtie before floating forward. “I just don’t want to see you taken advantage of,” Bill said as he ruffled his student’s hair.

Ford huffed in frustration. While he appreciated Bill’s concern, he could very well take care of himself. “It wasn’t that simple. Look, after the party Charlie took us to the mini-golf course that’s going to be having its grand opening in a few days. We broke in to play a couple of games to cheer ourselves up.”

 

2 hours after Ethan’s party…

 

The golf course was beautifully lit up by the exterior lights that thankfully Lizzie was able to find the switch to. They had played through one of the courses and were taking a break before heading to the other one. Ford headed over to the vending machine and bought himself a soda. He thought about getting one for Fiddleford but was now questioning every gesture and if it was too forward. He opened the tab and took a swig as he sat down on a nearby bench.

Ford sighed when he saw Stan break away from a conversation with Lizzie near the tenth hole and make his way toward him. Was he ready to have this conversation? _I guess I’ll have to be._

Stan came to a stop in front of the bench and rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he spoke. “Hey, uh, Stanford, can we talk?”

“Yes, that does seem like something we need to do,” Ford admitted. He made room and Stan sat down next to him.

“I’m sorry I convinced you to come to Ethan’s stupid party,” his twin began. “I was a huge idiot for thinking that I could use it as a way to make things up to you. If I’d known Ethan was going to be such a dick, I never would have asked you to go or even gone myself. I hope that this doesn’t ruin our uh, ‘agreement’ to be ‘civil’ toward each other.”

Stan had steadily stared at the ground throughout his whole apology. When he finally looked up at Ford, his face was screwed up with emotion.

“I don’t like this- this not acting like brothers,” Stan continued. “But, I don’t know how to fix it. What do you want me to do, Ford?”

Startled by the question, Ford stuttered out, “I- uh- I don’t know.” He’d been sure before the party that he didn’t want such a close relationship with his brother. So full of self-righteousness he was certain that his brother was nothing but selfish. Everything changed though when he saw Stan stand up for him. He was reminded of the way they used to be.

Stan rubbed his hands over his face. “Maybe I should go then. If you want, I’ll move in with Ma. Then you won’t have to look at me.” He moved to stand, but Ford’s hand shot out to grab his wrist.

_That’s not what I want. I want us to be okay again._ “I’ve been an ass,” Ford blurted out.

His brother turned back to him, wide-eyed in shock. Ford slowly released his hold on Stan, certain that he wasn’t going to leave just yet. “I overreacted to the thing at Summerween and I’ve blown it way out of proportion. I’m sorry. I never should have done that to you, Lee.” _I shouldn’t have let my pride get in the way._

Stan let out a shaky laugh. “That’s the first time you’ve called me Lee since Summerween.”

 

6 hours after Ethan’s party…

 

“So, _you_ ended up apologizing?” Bill shook his head. “Sixer, he stole the recognition that should have been yours. Oh, well, just know that I would never let that happen to you. You’re going to change the world and everyone will know _your_ name.”

Ford shifted uncomfortably as he listened to Bill. Had he let it go too quickly? _Does Bill think I’m weak because he thinks I was “taken advantage of”?_

“Stan didn’t mean to steal the spotlight. He just got excited.” There wasn’t as much conviction in his voice as he had hoped. His tone was dull and questioning. But, that was why Bill was such a good teacher, wasn’t it? He made him question things.

“I’m sure he believes that. But, sometimes people don’t even realize their own motivations. Why was it that his ‘excitement’ made him forget about you in particular?”

Ford opened his mouth to protest again. He wanted to defend his twin. Bill didn’t know him. His muse didn’t understand. But he paused. How could Ford accuse his _all-knowing_ muse of not knowing someone whose mind he’d been inside of?

Bill held up a hand. “It’s just something to think about.” His mentor gestured for Ford to solve the complex equation he’d written out in midair. “In the meantime, let’s see how much of my lessons you’ve retained so far.”

* * *

 

 

12 hours after Ethan’s party…

 

Fiddleford sat on the couch inside the Pine’s Bed & Breakfast. His knee was bouncing nervously as he waited for Ford to get back. Stan had called him early that morning and told him to come pick up Ford and bring him to the lake. He had tried to ask what was going on but Stan had insisted that he not question it.

“Fiddleford, would you like anything to drink while you wait?” Lucy asked from the kitchen.

He was about to reject her offer when he realized how dry his mouth felt. It was like it was full of cotton. “Some water please,” he requested hoarsely.

He heard the clinking of a cup and the tap turn on. Moments later Lucy walked in front of him with Nicole trailing after her, and handed him a glass of water.

“Thank ya, Mrs. Pines.” He took a sip then found himself drinking deeply from it.

“I’m sure Ford will be back soon. He left pretty early and usually isn’t gone very long if he goes out without Stan,” Lucy reassured him as she sat down on the opposite couch. Nicole climbed onto the seat beside her mother and hugged the stuffed llama she was dragging around close to her chest.

“Where is Stan, by the way? He called me this mornin’ and all he’d tell me was that he wanted me to come get Ford an’ take him to the lake.”

“Well, he’s already at the lake with Lizzie and Chris. He said he explained everything to you.” Lucy appeared to be as confused by Stan’s plan as Fiddleford was.

“Well, he explained diddly-squat to me.”

Nicole giggled but when Fiddleford smiled at her she lifted her llama to cover her face.

They all startled at the sound of the back door bursting open. Fidds turned to see Ford walk in covered in dirt and carrying a bulky duffel bag. His chest was puffed out with pride and he was smiling bright enough to cut through the mud and dirt smudged on his face.

“Hi, Lucy,” Ford greeted. “I’ll clean all of this up.” He gestured to the bits of soil falling from his clothes. “I just have to go take care of this.” He patted the duffel bag proudly.

Lucy cleared her throat to get his attention. “I’ll clean it up, Ford. Apparently, you have plans for the day.” She nodded toward Fiddleford and Ford’s eyes widened.

“Oh, hi there, Fidds!” he greeted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Just let me put this down and get a quick shower. I’ll be right out.”

“That’s alright, darlin’.” Fiddleford felt his face heat up as the term of endearment slipped out. “Take your time.”

Fidds tried to tell himself that it was okay. They were officially together now. But, as he watched Ford dart down the hall to take a shower, he feared that he’d embarrassed himself. _What am I doing?_

 

3 hours after Ethan’s party…

 

“You can do it, Fidds!” Stan hissed into his ear as they watched Chris try repeatedly to hit his golf ball up the little hill into the windmill. It just kept rolling back down. “Just go talk to Ford. If me and him can fix things between us then you can go fix things between you guys.”

Fiddleford glanced over at Ford talking to Charlie. “I don’t think… what if he wants someone more like- like Charlie?” _What if he wants someone who isn’t afraid of their own shadow?_

“Charlie?” Stan pulled a face. “He isn’t Ford’s type in the slightest. Sixer likes smart, sensitive guys. So, go talk to him, before I drag you over there myself.”

Fidds imagined the humiliation of Stan pulling him along kicking and screaming like a child. “Okay, okay. I- I’ll do it.”

“That’s the spirit!” Stan encouraged, thumping him on the back with so much force that he stumbled forward.

He took a deep breath and walked over to Ford with sure steps that faded into reluctance. He came to an awkward halt beside the two, still conversing.

“It is a possibility that there are small creatures within the miniature golf obstacles moving the balls along,” Ford said as he put a finger to his chin.

Charlie scoffed. “Just because there are a couple of weird things in this town, that doesn’t mean _everything_ has some complex, supernatural explanation.”

Ford shrugged, noncommittally then turned to Fiddleford. “Did you need something?” His voice was odd, guarded. He crossed his arms over his chest and didn’t quite meet the older boy’s eyes. Fiddleford couldn’t blame him.

“May I talk to you, uh, privately, that is?” Fidds rubbed his hands together nervously.

Charlie took the hint and at a nod from Ford stepped away. Ford then gave Fidds an expectant look, for him to speak.

“Look, Stanford, I… uh… I’m not the most… attractive guy out there. Honestly, you could probably do a lot better than some hillbilly like me.” He gestured to himself awkwardly. “That’s why I’ve been avoidin’ figuring out what the heck this is between us. I like you… a lot. If you want to be my… my boyfriend, I’d like that. But I also understand if you don’t… ya know, want… me.” He finished in a small voice unable to look at the other teen for longer than a few seconds.

Ford’s eyebrows travelled higher with every word until they disappeared beneath his bangs. His arms lowered to rest at his sides. Fidds hoped that meant he was no longer on the defensive. Even if he didn’t get the answer he wanted, he just wanted them to still be friends. There was something enthralling in the way Ford spoke about the wonders of Gravity Falls. He didn’t want to miss out on watching each new discovery.

“Fidds,” Ford said with a laugh. “Every attractive person within a hundred miles could be knocking down my door and I would still choose you every time. You like me and not just in spite of my hands. You make me feel like they aren’t a detractor from my capability of being a potential romantic partner. You’re intelligent and provide stimulating conversation. And, Fiddleford, you are indeed very attractive, not to mention an amazing kisser. So, yes, I very much want to be your boyfriend.”

Fiddleford opened and closed mouth several times, unsure how to respond. Sure, he had hoped Ford would say yes. He had wanted their relationship to be more than just a make out session at a Summerween party. But, he never let himself genuinely believe that he would get his heart’s desire. _I’m the luckiest person in the world._

“I must be the luckiest person in the world.”

Ford blushed and grabbed Fiddleford’s hand. “Come on, Fidds. Chris finally got the ball into the windmill and I think it’s your turn.”

* * *

 

 

12 hours after Ethan’s party…

 

“Come on, Rosa,” Stan said, leaning on the counter. He attempted a charming smile for the young woman standing behind it.

She rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “I already told you no. I’m not getting in trouble with Diego just so you can catch a break.”

“Look, _you_ know your brother overcharges for boat rentals, _I_ know your brother overcharges for boat rentals, so why don’t we just skip this back and forth and you give me a fair rate.”

Rosa smirked at him. “I thought you had a boat, Pines?”

Stan scoffed at the suggestion. “There is no way I can cram five teenagers into that dinky sailboat.”

“Then I guess you are paying the same rate as everyone else.” She slid the rental contract across the counter and Stan snatched the pen from her.

He signed it and dropped the pen back onto the counter with a clatter. “Such a rip off,” he muttered as he threw a wad of cash down beside it.

“What was that?” Rosa asked all too innocently. She picked up the money and slid the boat keys aggressively across the counter. They slid off of the counter and clattered on the wood floor.

“I said you’re ripping people off!” Stan snapped. He picked up the keys and clutched them tightly in his fist. “Ya need your hearing checked or something?”

“You’re on my list, Pines!” she snapped back at him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He waved her off as he went to meet his friends.

It was the first time he had needed to rent a boat. He’d only seen Shermie do it once before for a family fishing trip. Rosa’s older brother Diego had overcharged them but Shermie had waved off Stan’s concerns. It wasn’t by enough to drive business away but the lessons his father had instilled in him told him to fight it with everything he had.

As he made his way back over to his friends at the lakeshore, he could see that they both had their heads ducked close together. Lizzie was making motions with her hands as she spoke. By the way Chris wasn’t looking directly into her eyes he could assume that she was scolding him for something. _That isn’t too strange. Chris is always doing something that Lizzie has to tell him off for._

Stan shoved his hands into his pockets as he got closer. After the conversation last night he found himself questioning how right he actually was.

 

A ½ hour after Ethan’s party…

 

Stan rested the yellow golf club he had called dibs on across his shoulders as he trailed after Lizzie. They were in a backroom trying to find the switch to turn on the outside lights so that they could actually play. It was a storage room piled high with boxes that still needed to be sorted through to prepare for the grand opening. Most were put up on tall shelving units, but others were just stacked on top of each other on the floor. There was a desk next to the door that had fresh binders that were most likely waiting to be filled with forms, like tax records and payroll.

“Sooo,” Stan began casually. “Do you wanna make out?”

Lizzie looked back over her shoulder and gave him a look that told him she wasn’t in the mood. “No, Stanley, I don’t.”

“Okay. It was just a question.” He paused before continuing in a softer voice. “Are you still upset about what Ethan said? Cause, Liz, you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and I’ve lived in two different states, so I’ve seen a lot of girls.”

Lizzie stopped as she was about to pull a stack of boxes away from the wall. She turned to Stan and smiled at him. “For a knucklehead you can be pretty damn sweet.” She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in for a short kiss. It was a quick press of lips and then it was over. Stan wished it could have lasted much longer.

“But, no,” she continued. “I’m over what Ethan said. I mean, I still want to knock him on his ass but I know he was just being a dick. I’m… I don’t know. I’m worried about Chris.”

Stan let the golf club drop from his shoulders and rest against the carpet. He raised an eyebrow at his girlfriend. Chris was the last person he expected anyone to be worried about. Chris was predictable. He would say something stupid and they would fix it. When he wasn’t doing that, he was complaining about his family being obsessed with the funeral home business that had recently been passed down to his uncle.

“Why would you be worried about Chris?”

“You know how after we walked out of Ethan’s party I went back in to get him?”

Stan shrugged. “Yeah.”

“I found him playing poker with some guys who were at least in their twenties. They all seemed to know each other and I had to practically drag Chris away from the table.”

Lizzie seemed genuinely worked up over this, but Stan couldn’t see why. “Okay. So what’s the problem?”

She huffed in frustration. “You didn’t see it, but I did. He didn’t care that we had just been kicked out or that Ethan said those horrible things, he just wanted to keep playing cards.”

“Hey, calm down.” Stan put a hand on her shoulder and kissed her forehead. He was starting to realize what she was implying. He had seen some of those guys with gambling problems come into the pawn shop. They were looking to sell family heirlooms, their wife’s jewelry, or sometimes even their children’s toys, just to make rent because they’d blown their paycheck betting on horses or cards. That wasn’t Chris though. He knew Chris. The guy was stupid sometimes but not that stupid.

Stan looked into Lizzie’s eyes. “I’m sure Chris just happened to have a really good hand or went all in or something. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“But, last week he borrowed-” She paused, cutting herself off. She was looking deep into Stan’s eyes for a moment, then she smiled. It was forced but Stan didn’t call her on it. “You’re right. It’s probably nothing.”

Lizzie moved the stack of boxes to reveal a series of freshly labelled switches on the wall. She flicked up the three on the left. Distantly, they could hear their friends cheering.

“Let’s get out of here,” Stan suggested.

 

12 hours after Ethan’s party…

 

Stan stopped several feet away from Lizzie and Chris. Their backs were still turned to him. He strained to hear their conversation, hoping to find out what it was Lizzie didn’t tell him the night before. All he caught was her telling Chris he needed to be more responsible. _That’s normal for her to say. Maybe there isn’t anything wrong after all._

“Guys, I got the boat!” he announced.

Chris jumped as he spun around to face Stan. Lizzie looked away from Chris, actively trying to distance herself.

_No, there’s nothing wrong at all. Everything is good now. It has to be._

 

After Ford and Fiddleford arrived, they boarded the boat and went on an adventure to find the rumored lake monster. Chris showed them a magic trick he learned with a deck of cards. Fiddleford told a crazy story about his family back in Tennessee. Ford told them about his theory that all of the weird stuff in Gravity Falls could be coming from some other dimension. Lizzie jokingly sat Fidds down to compare notes on dating twins, causing him to turn so red that they weren’t sure he would ever stop blushing. And by the end of the day, they were having such a good time that they were all hesitant to let it end.

They didn’t find the lake monster that Fiddleford had dubbed as the Gobblewonker. Though Stan did insist that they take the giant tooth they found on the beach for his museum of weirdness. They loaded it into Fidds truck for him to drop off at the bed and breakfast before he went home.

Even without finding what they’d come there for, Stan felt that it had been a productive outing. He felt like everything was finally going back to normal. He was able to get Ford back. Things seemed fine with Chris. And they had a new member for their friend group. Everything was back on track.

That night Stan curled up in his bed to go to sleep, certain that everything was set right.


	18. Ribbon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come one, come all to the grand opening of the Mystery Museum! Bask in the wonder of the weirdest and wackiest attractions in Gravity Falls!

The morning air was chilly and damp against his skin. It was several degrees warmer within the cave, as it worked as a shield from whatever the elements could throw at him. Ford set down his duffel bag and carefully removed the pile of rocks he had stacked to reseal the secret cave room that he had discovered several days ago. He had come across it by accident when he had been searching for more Bill artifacts. The wall hiding the room had come crumbling down, coating him in a layer of dirt and dust. The secret room held ancient idols and images of his muse. He’d only been able to collect a fraction of what was there. Now several days later he had another opportunity to finally return with a larger bag and more than enough supplies to wrap and cushion each item to keep anything from getting damaged.

After the rocks were all set aside, he entered the room and still gasped in surprise at everything there. It was a spiritual moment to witness everything the natives of Gravity Falls had made to honor Bill. His muse deserved it. He was a higher being, his very essence demanding worship.

Shelves had been carved into the cave walls. The depth of them didn’t go back further than a foot, but the span went on for the entire length of the room, about eight feet. The shelves weren’t filled to the brim. There were spaces that appeared to already be missing items, some of them he’d already taken, but some had been missing from before he had discovered it. Then there were some items, like a couple of woven tapestries that had been damaged by time. He didn’t have the supplies to repair them and as a result would, regrettably, be leaving them behind.

The air within the room seemed to buzz with energy. It provoked Ford into action and he got to work. He started with the idols and planned to go from there. There weren’t too many items to carry, but if he didn’t want anything damaged, he would have to take his time. He estimated he would possibly be spending the whole day there. He didn’t mind though. This was an expedition at which Bill was the center of, therefore it didn’t feel like a chore. On the contrary, this felt like a privilege. He would do anything to show his devotion for Bill.

 

* * *

 

Stan was expending nervous energy on rearranging his displays over and over again. He would finish, only to think of a better way to catch the attention of the customers he was anticipating. Then he would start all over again. It was the day of his grand opening and as thrilled as he was, he wasn’t sure if he was ready.

Ford had already been gone by the time that he woke up, leaving behind only a note that explained that he’d gone out. His twin brother had gone… well he didn’t know where and it only made his anxiety grow. But, even as he rearranged his attractions and the special order keychains and hats that had question marks on them to sell, he forced down his apprehension because he knew that Ford would be back in time. The grand opening was scheduled for eleven o’clock on the dot and his twin still had another two hours before it was showtime.

He perked up at the sound of footsteps coming down the cellar stairs. On instincts he started to tease Ford about where he had gone. “So, did you go to an early bird breakfast with the boyfriend?” Stan turned and was startled by Lizzie holding a box, standing before him instead of Stanford. “Oh, uh, hey. I thought you were… never mind.”

“Ford?” she gave him a sympathetic smile at his nod in affirmation. “Lucy told me what’s up. If I know Ford, he wouldn’t miss this for the world. He’ll be back in time. And speaking of breakfast.” She opened the box and held it out to him. It contained an array of colorfully decorated donuts.

Stan gave her a peck on the lips and grabbed a jelly donut. “Thanks. I’m excited… and nervous, but I don’t think I can go through with this if I don’t have Ford here.”

“Why would you say that?” she asked as she grabbed a donut for herself and set the box on the counter.

He shrugged in response, knowing that if he gave her an answer she’d try and talk him out of the feeling. It was hard to explain anyways. Ford wasn’t exactly a necessary component. It would just feel _wrong_ to do something so big without him, especially after the Summerween thing.

“Okay, I get it,” she responded through a mouthful of donut. “It’s a twin thing, right? I won’t pry, but,” She swallowed hard, then finished. “Just know that you can do anything you set your mind to, even without Ford.”

“Thanks for the sentiment, but it’s hard to take you seriously with a powdered sugar mustache.” He grinned and gestured to her upper lip.

“Dammit,” she muttered as she used her thumb to wipe it away. “Anyways, I came over early to see what I can do to help prepare.”

He was grateful for the offer but as looked around the cellar he realized that there wasn’t really anything left to do, except… there was one attraction that he had been hesitant to set up. But maybe it was worth the risk.

“There’s this… thing,” he began.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “Should I be nervous about this ‘thing’?”

“No way!” he reassured. Then he paused for a moment. It was probably better to be safe than sorry. “But you should probably wear gloves.”

They went upstairs and they stepped into a rarely used storage closet. Inside were packages of extra bed linens, curtains, cabinetry handles, faucets, and other extra odds and ends that could be needed to do room maintenance at a moment’s notice.

At the very back of the storage room stood something tall and flat, covered with a sheet and leaning against the back wall. “Do you remember that mirror we found last year?”

Lizzie frowned in confusion for a moment. “What mirror-” Then her eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh, yeah. The mirror that shows what you’re going to look like when you’re old.”

Stan whipped off the sheet and the image of him as a heavy-set old man, with gray hair reflected back at him. “It’s perfect, right?” It was just weird enough to attract customers, but easy enough to make up some excuse that his genius brother invented it or something.

“People will love it,” she said as she moved to grab one end of it. “Let’s get it down to the cellar.”

 

It was almost an hour later that Chris showed up to help. He brought little metal nametags that he’d hand-engraved. Of course, they had their full names on them, but Stan pinned his to his shirt and couldn’t stop smiling at how professional he felt. The whole thing was real, and everyone was taking him seriously. Both his family and his friends wanted him to succeed and they were doing everything they could to help him.

A voice in the back of his head, that sounded a lot like his dad, kept telling him that he was going to let them down. _You can try all you want, but in the end they’re going to see that you’re the same person you’ve always been: a stupid failure._ Stan mentally waved off the words. That wasn’t him anymore. He was going to prove his dad wrong. He was going to prove his own insecurities wrong. This was his chance to be everything he always wanted to be and he was going to succeed.

Stan finished wiping down the mirror, pressing harder than needed to get out the smudges as he thought about the way his dad always seemed so disappointed in him. Chris stood behind him, staring into the reflective surface.

“If it creeps you out so much then stop looking at it,” Stan said as he stepped back.

Chris turned his head to get a look at both sides. His reflection had snow white hair and deep wrinkles near his eyes. “I can’t help it. The reminder of my own mortality is both horrifying and enthralling.”

Stan rolled his eyes. Even Ford wasn’t so pretentious when they first found the thing. His twin had just looked in the mirror, shivered at the realization of what it did, and said “Not a fan of this thing”, and moved on.

And his thoughts were back on Ford.

It was still another twenty minutes until opening, but Ford didn’t usually cut these things so close. His brother wouldn’t be so careless about something this important… would he?

“I need to go take care of something,” he told Chris before running up the stairs.

Outside, Stan spotted Lizzie greeting customers gathering for the grand opening. It was only a few people holding flyers he had been handing out, leading up to that day.

“We still have about fifteen minutes before opening,” she told them with a smile. “You are more than welcome to check out the Pines Bed and Breakfast’s gift shop while you wait.”

He slipped inside and grabbed the phone. He dialed the number that he’d seen Ford call many times before. After two rings, someone picked up. “McGucket residence,” answered a young woman’s voice in a southern drawl. That was probably one of Fidds’ sisters.

“Hi, I’m calling for Fidds- uh- I mean, Fiddleford. Tell him that it’s Stan.”

There was a laugh and her formal tone was gone. “O’ course.” Then her voice sounded a bit farther away as she seemed to have pulled the phone away from her mouth. “Fiddleford, there’s a boy on the phone for ya!” That definitely had to be one of Fidds’ sisters.

Seconds later, he could hear Fiddleford’s voice. “Thank ya, Annalise. Yell any louder and the whole west coast is gonna know my business.” Then Fidds’ voice got louder as he was holding the phone closer to his mouth now. “Hello?”

“Hey, Fidds, its Stan.”

“Oh, hi. Is everythin’ okay?” Stan opened his mouth to reply but then Fidds continued. “We were going ta come to your grand opening but my parents had to go help my grandma with somethin’ and Annie and I have ta watch the little ones-”

“No, no. That’s fine, Fidds,” Stan interrupted. It sounded like Fidds was concerned that he’d somehow offended Stan. He’d really rather not get stuck on trying to reassure the other teen that there was nothing to be worried about on that front. “I’m calling to see if Ford is over there.”

“What? No. I haven’t heard from Stanford at all today. I thought he would be home helping you.”

That was not the reply Stan had been wanting to hear. That left him still with no idea where Ford was or when he’d be back. An impulse to cancel the whole thing twisted his stomach into a knot.

“No,” he croaked out, sounding quite pitiful. Stan cleared his throat and stood up straighter even though there was no one around to take note. “He left a note saying that he was going out this morning. He hasn’t been back all day.”

There was a short pause and Fiddleford let out a slow breath. “Well, he may have just lost track of time.” Another pause, then he spoke again with more confidence. “He’s probably just sketching some critter he saw and will come strolling in the door any minute now. You know how he is. He wouldn’t miss your grand opening for the world.”

Stan wasn’t so sure Fidds was right. His eyes strayed to the clock on the wall. They were down to ten minutes before the grand opening. Last he’d seen Lucy was manning the B&B’s gift shop with Nicole playing behind the counter, while Shermie finished cleaning the rooms in use. The three of them had been talking non-stop about finishing their tasks early and closing their gift shop to see his grand opening.

But his grand opening wasn’t going to be anything too “grand”. It was a collection of odds and ends thrown together in a borrowed cellar. Maybe that was why Ford had left that morning. Maybe he didn’t want to have to witness Stan embarrassing himself and the family name.

No. He’d told himself that he wasn’t going down that rabbit hole of thinking anymore. This was his. He wasn’t going to let that darker part of his mind take it away from him.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he told Fidds, putting on his own show of false confidence. “Sorry to bother you.”

“You’re never a bother, Stan. Good luck today.”

“Thanks. See ya later, Fidds.”

Stan hung up and took a deep breath. He turned to face the back door and kept his eyes locked on it. Ford would come walking through that door any moment, just like Fidds had said. The clock ticked behind him, making him all too aware of the passage of time. A minute went by, then two, then three. The door opened and Stan felt a wash of relief before it was ripped away from him as Shermie entered.

“Hey, Sherm, is… is Ford back?”

Shermie gave a strained smile and shook his head. “No, but you have quite the crowd. You should probably get out there. Ford will get here soon, but he wouldn’t want you waiting for him.”

After taking a deep breath and adjusting his name tag, Stan nodded and followed his older brother to the door. They stepped outside and rounded the building to the cellar entrance to see a crowd of what was nearly a hundred people. Most were from town but there were obviously some tourists in the mix, along with the guests staying at the B&B. He hadn’t expected so many people. They wouldn’t all fit in the cellar and he found himself evaluating how he was going to keep timed tours moving through.

The Corduroys were there. Shermie, Lucy, and Nicole were there. His mom was there. But there was still no Ford.

Shermie stepped away to talk with Lucy and their mom for a moment. Lizzie was talking to the crowd, thanking them for their patience, while Chris was still selling tickets to those who had just arrived. Charlie was standing with his family and holding an oversized pair of scissors. They locked eyes and then the older teen approached with a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Look what I got for you!” Charlie said in a sing-song voice as he presented the scissors. Then as Stan took them he told him in a whisper, “Don’t tell my mom but I stole them from city hall.”

Stan was touched by the thoughtful gesture. “Stealing from the government for me? That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me.”

“You’re very welcome,” Charlie said, puffing out his chest with pride.

“Now if I only had a ribbon to cut…”

Charlie took him by his shoulders and turned him to face the cellar doors where a ribbon had been tied across them. “Already done.”

Stan wanted to feel excited, but now all he could think was that there was nothing left holding him back from opening. The crowd had only grown bigger in the minute or so since he came outside. Shermie was by his side again and put a hand on his shoulder.

“You ready?” his older brother asked.

“No.” It wasn’t what he’d planned to say. The word had pushed its way out before he could really consciously formulate any response.

Charlie gave him a curious look, but he ignored it as Shermie asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah,” Stan started, unsure where he was going. “I don’t… I forgot to… put a ‘Do Not Touch’ sign on the attractions. You know how people are. We don’t want their grimy hands on everything. Just distract them and give me a few minutes to make some signs!” He ran back inside before Shermie could respond.

Once inside, Stan saw that Nicole had left out her crayons and paper on the kitchen table. He sat down moving aside the coloring book full of animals, opened to a llama that his niece had colored blue.

Stan took his time drawing the most artistic ‘Do Not Touch’ sign that he could. He used a red crayon to draw in large, blocky letters. Each one he drew slowly and painfully precise. _I want it to look professional, that’s why I’m taking such a long time… and drawing it in crayon._

“Who am I kidding?” he muttered to himself as he sat back and glared at the half-done sign.

“Nobody, apparently.”

Stan turned his head to see his mom standing at the back door. He sighed and turned back to the sign. “Thanks. It’s good to know that everyone can read me like a fucking book.”

Caryn came to sit down at the end to the table, tutting at the profanity but not scolding him for it. “What are you waiting for, baby? You went through all of this work and you’re what? Going to throw it all away?”

“No!” He snapped at her, but she didn’t flinch. Her jaw tightened and her gaze narrowed, but there was no actual reaction to his tone. “I’m just… waiting for- Never mind. If you want me to go out there, then fine, I’ll go out there.”

He didn’t know why he was getting so defensive. It all felt wrong. Every moment of the day had been _wrong._ He’d imagined his grand opening with Ford right there the whole time. Now it felt empty without him.

“No. You need to go out there because _you_ want this.” Caryn leaned forward and pointed a finger at his face. “You don’t need Stanford’s approval to live your life.”

That wasn’t what he was looking for… was it? He didn’t need Ford to always be there. But he wanted him to be there. He wanted to share every moment with him if he could. Ford would be there graduating beside him. Ford would be his best man at his wedding one day, be there when he had kids, he’d be there to see the museum grow into something bigger… Ford was going to be there. That was his only certainty in life.

“I don’t need Ford’s approval. He promised he’d be here.” He jabbed a finger at the table for emphasis. “So, he’ll be here.”

“Alright.” His mom sat back again and nodded. “Do you think we need to go look for him? Do you think he could be in trouble?”

Stan thought about it for a moment. He and Ford had explored Gravity Falls together and encountered every manner of paranormal creature. Ford knew what he was doing and knew not to try anything too risky without backup. No. He was confident that Ford wasn’t in danger. “No. He probably lost track of time or something.” That realization stung. Ford was most likely _choosing_ not to show up.

“Look, baby, you know that I love your brother with all my heart, but you are not obligated to wait around for him. You’re your own people. Stanford is absent-minded. I don’t believe that he is trying to hurt you by not being here, but you can’t be waiting around for him like this, not when its going to hurt you. You have something good here. Don’t waste it because Ford is being a knucklehead.”

_Knucklehead._ That was a word usually reserved for Stan. It was a “nice” way of saying that he was being stupid, that he was a dumbass. It was strange hearing it used for Ford. His mom was right. He always deferred to Ford. It was because Ford deserved it. His twin had been through so much shit in his life, why should he be the one making it any harder. But he was putting his own life on hold while Ford didn’t seem to really care all that much.

Stan got to his feet. “You’re right, Ma. I want to make something of this… of myself. I’m gonna go cut that ribbon.”

 

* * *

 

It was nearing six o’clock when Ford decided that he had filled his bag enough. It had been a full day of carefully removing, cleaning, and packing the delicate artifacts. Ford struggled a bit with the duffel bag, laden with the heavy idols and couple of woven mats that all bore the image of his muse. He exited the cave, not feeling the weight as a burden but a gift. He couldn’t wait until he got home. Then he could bring them out once again, he was thinking about creating a nook in a rarely used storage room to display them.

When Ford got outside the cave, he found that the sun was hanging low in the sky. It was still at least another hour until sunset. He would make it home before dark but he would be cutting it close.

“Child, you did not heed my warning.”

Ford whipped around to find the wolf sitting at the mouth of the cave. He could run, but he wouldn’t get far carrying the bag. There was no way he would leave it behind, so he just clutched it close to his side.

“I didn’t find anything dangerous in the cave. I don’t think you have anything to worry about protecting.” He tried not to sound too defensive, even if that was the truth of how he was feeling about his beloved idols. It was an attempt at a gentle correction. Perhaps her information or her mission was outdated.

The wolf walked forward and Ford shuffled back toward the trail.

“I won’t hurt you,” the wolf sighed. “You acted against my warnings and now you will bear the consequences. But they will not come from me. I may have failed but I did my duty.”

Ford held the duffel bag tighter against his side as he stepped forward instead of back as he intended. His curiosity was getting the better of him. “What are you talking about? I didn’t find anything dangerous. There are no consequences for me to bear.”

She seemed to ignore his response. “I will leave you with one last caution, though in your foolish youth you probably will not take it to heart. Vain flattery and empty promises have led to the downfall of even the most intelligent men. I foresee many trials ahead of you, if you allow your pride to send you down that path. You will be getting a glimpse of your future very soon. Take the opportunity to learn from it and change it, Stanford Filbrick Pines.”

He shivered at the sound of his full name coming from her. “How do you know my name?” Ford demanded.

The wolf approached him and he refused to retreat even an inch. She looked around as if to ensure that no one else was listening. “Remember this, child: trust no one.”

She ran at him and Ford dodged out of the way. He leapt to his right and turned to keep the bag from hitting the ground. Instead it landed heavily against his hip. He predicted that he would have an impressive bruise by the next day.

Ford sat up and looked around for the wolf possibly coming back to finish him off. She was nowhere in sight. He looked into his bag but with everything wrapped up, he couldn’t tell if anything was broken.

With a resigned sigh he got to his feet and began the trek home. He tried not to think about the wolf’s warning. They were meaningless, vaguely threatening words. None of it was anything Ford found productive, so there was no reason to dwell on it. Still… it would probably be a good idea to ask Bill about it.

 

By the time he reached home, the sun was sinking below the horizon. The B&B was illuminated by the oranges and purples of the sun setting. He rounded the building to head for the back door. His feet automatically came to a stop. A banner hung over the cellar door: “MUSEUM OF MYSTERY GRAND OPENING”.

How had he forgotten? Stan had reminded him over and over. There had been flyers lining every street, hanging in every store window that Stan could gain access to. He’d been so focused on finding more Bill artifacts that it had slipped his mind. Bill obviously took precedent, but he couldn’t explain that to Stan.

He ran to the cellar and down the steps to find Stan, Lizzie, and Chris all laughing as they were cleaning and restocking. As soon as he stepped into the room, everyone stopped. The laughter faded and was replaced with an uncomfortable silence.

“Stanley,” he began. He swallowed hard as he tried to figure out what to say. “I am so sorry that I wasn’t here.”

Stan set the duct tape he had been using to reattach an antler to the “antlerabbit” on the counter next to the stuffed creature. He cleared his throat but didn’t reply.

Chris shut the money box with a loud snap that startled everyone out of the awkward frozen state they’d been in and tucked it under the counter. “Well, I’m just completely tuckered out,” he said with an exaggerated yawn. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Me too,” Lizzie muttered before following him up the stairs.

That left the twins to discuss things on their own. It was a full minute before Ford tried again. “I really am sorry. I lost track of time and I… I forgot about today.”

Stan shoved his hands into his pockets. He only met Ford’s eyes for a moment before he looked down at the dusty floor, up at the ceiling, and really anywhere that wasn’t his twin. “It’s okay, bro,” he said with a shrug. “It’s not like I was waiting for you all day, or like I called up Fidds looking for you, or almost ruined my grand opening because I kept my customers waiting… all for you, _brother._ ”

Ford had been trying to be gracious and apologize but now Stan was making it out to be that he did this on purpose, like he had been _trying_ to ruin Stan’s big moment. “Hey, I didn’t ask you to wait for me! I forgot what today was, that’s it.”

“I’m not mad or anything,” Stan insisted in a tone that very much implied the opposite of his statement. “You were busy doing… whatever it is you were doing.” He gestured to the duffel bag and Ford tried to tuck it behind him. “And obviously that was more important than my stupid little museum, that you encouraged by the way.”

Ford wanted to tell him that yes, Bill was more important than Stan in the long run, no matter how much he cared about his twin. But that was something he’d never be able to take back. _Stick to this. No one would understand Bill, not like you do._ “Yes, I encouraged it because I believe in you! I made one mistake. That doesn’t mean I suddenly want to sabotage your whole life, Stanley.”

Stan opened his mouth but then closed it again. “You’re right.” He seemed to deflate as the fight seeped out of him. There was silence for a long moment, in which they both looked away from each other. The atmosphere was awkward and filled with unsaid statements that they both knew were stuck in their throats. Finally, Stan continued. “Ma talked to me about us and I get it. We have our own things that we’re doing and that’s fine. Just tell me next time if you’re not going to be here. Ya know, that way I don’t save you a ticket.” He gave an awkward laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Ford wasn’t thrilled by the way the discussion seemed to be ending, but he wouldn’t fight it either. If Stan was finally realizing that they needed their own space, that worked in his favor. No more Stanley clinging to him meant more time to spend on Bill.

“I am sorry for missing this, Lee.” Ford gestured to their surroundings. “I’m sure it was great.”

His twin smiled and nodded. “Yeah, it was.”

They heard someone coming down the steps and they turned to see Shermie. “Hey, I- Oh, Ford, you’re back! Good. We were about to send a search party for you.”

The awkwardness threatened to return. “I lost track of time.”

Shermie nodded and turned to Stan. “Well, I came to see if you needed any help cleaning up.”

“Yeah.” Stan rubbed a hand over his face and forced a smile. “I just needed to finish restocking the counter here.” He patted the counter behind him.

And that was it. The confrontation was over. There was nothing left to say. Ford accepted it for what it was, but he couldn’t help but suspect there was something else under the surface. Stan was too quick to acquiesce. His brother was usually the one opposing change as if it were his arch enemy. He opened his mouth to ask if Stan had anything else to say to him, but he bit his tongue. It wasn’t his problem if Stan wanted to keep something to himself.

 

* * *

 

Lizzie’s heart was hammering in her chest as she followed after Chris up the cellar stairs and out into the cool summer evening. The sun had completely set and crickets could be heard chirping away in the semi-darkness. They were both on their way home, leaving Stan, Shermie, and Ford to have their private conversation.

It was difficult to walk away when she wanted to be there for her boyfriend and her friend. Something had changed recently. They all used to be so close. Only a couple of months ago if someone had told her that Stan and Ford would have so many problems with each other she would have told them they were being ridiculous. And if someone had dared to say that Chris would betray their trust she would have decked them. They were supposed to all be a team and yet she felt like all four of them were suddenly worlds apart.

Ford was so insecure that he needed to keep his pride inflated just to stay afloat. Stan walled himself into his own little world, where he pretended nothing bad could happen as long as he wished it hard enough. Chris closed himself off while pretending to overshare in order to keep everyone believing that he was shallow. And Lizzie… she just wanted to hold every one of her boys together.

The cellar door creaked as Chris shut it behind them. She had a choice to make. She could either confront him and force everything to come out, or she could continue on, looking the other way and avoiding the hard questions. She turned around, arms crossed over her chest as if she was hugging herself. The oversized flannel shirt that she wore suddenly felt too warm.

Chris turned to face her. His slicked back, black hair, was curling at his nape from sweat. She remembered that back when they were kids in elementary school, he wore his hair how it actually was: unmanageably curly. Part of her missed how easy it had been when they’d been friends in kindergarten. Back then the biggest things they had to worry about were scraped knees and learning to tie their shoes.

She stepped forward and looked sternly up at him. “You need to return the money, Chris.”

The color drained from his face and he looked anywhere but at her. “W-what are you talking about, Liz?”

That confirmed it. _You only call me Liz when you’re lying to me, dumbass._ “I saw you pocket it. I’m not blind. If you give it to me now, then I won’t tell Stan. I’ll just tell him that you forgot to put it in the cash box when you were selling tickets.” She held out her hand for the money but he didn’t give it to her. Instead he took her by the arm and led her away from the bed and breakfast to the edge of the forest where the light from the building barely reached.

“You don’t understand,” he told her in a low voice once they stopped. He released his grip on her arm and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I need the money.”

“For what?” she demanded. Stan trusted Chris more than any of them and how did Chris repay that? By stealing from him. _He better have a damn good reason._

Chris kicked at a small rock by his feet and glared at the ground for a moment. “I made some… unwise investments, and now I owe someone some money. He won’t be very gracious if I’m late with a payment.”

When he looked up at her again, there was fear in his eyes. It was very real fear that made Lizzie feel sick to her stomach. There was a disgust deep in her gut that told her to clock him across the face. She fought it down, though she wasn’t sure why. “Fine. Keep the money. Consider it a loan from me. I’ll replace it.”

He let out a relieved laugh as he ran a hand through his hair, mussing it from its neat style. “Thank you so much, Elizabeth. You are a saint!”

She pressed her lips into a thin line to keep from yelling at him… or sobbing. Yeah, there was a good cry in her that she would save for later. “No, I’m not. I just feel sorry for you. How much do you owe this guy?”

Chris opened and closed his mouth, seemingly unsure of how to respond. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke. “I took- I took a hundred and eighty from Stan, but I owe five hundred. I wasn’t sure where I was going to get the rest from.”

Lizzie’s hands shook as she reached into her pocket. She pulled out the old, worn wallet that her dad had given her when she’d gotten him a new one for Father’s Day. It held the money Stan had given her for helping him with the museum, plus the birthday and Christmas money she’d been saving up. She could never find a safe place to put it at home. Jessie and Danny were always stealing little bits of money from people to fuel their respective candy bar habits. That now seemed like a laughably small problem in comparison to the one in front of her.

She pulled out exactly five hundred dollars, leaving her only several ones in her wallet. Chris took it and exchanged it for what he’d taken from Stan.

“Thanks for this,” he said putting the five hundred in his pocket. “You don’t understand how much this means-”

“Shut up, Christopher.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. It was too angry and cold. She didn’t like it but she wasn’t about to apologize for it.

Chris swallowed hard. “Right. Sorry. I’ll get going then.”

Once he was gone, Lizzie had to clap a hand to her mouth to keep herself from sobbing out loud. She sucked in a deep breath and scrubbed at her eyes to dispel the tears threatening to fall. There was a creak from behind her and she looked over her shoulder to see Shermie going down into the cellar. She shoved the money into her wallet and pocketed it. She would return the money the next day. Right then she just wanted to go home and wonder what life would have been like if she had never met Christopher Valentino.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... apologies for this taking so long. Life has been kind of kicking my butt lately. I'm not too thrilled with this chapter but after rewriting in three times I realized that if I didn't post it, I'd probably just be working on it forever. Something important to note is that I screwed up in an earlier chapter when I stated Fiddleford's age. I said that he was seventeen but then I was looking at my timeline for the story and I realized that he's not supposed to turn seventeen until later in the story. I will be going back and changing that either today or tomorrow. Sorry about that.  
> I do have fun writing this story but I also have recently taken on some other responsibilities. I don't know when I will update next but I'm sure that it will be sometime in July. Thank you to everyone who is still reading!


	19. The Fair Part 1: The Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the 4th of July and everyone is headed to the fair! It's going to be all fun and games, right? ... right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original plan was to post this on the 4th of July but some stuff came up so I'm a little late. I appreciate each and every comment I get. I write this because I have fun with it and I want to, but the wonderful comments you guys leave keep me motivated! So thanks you guys!

This was Stan’s only chance. He was home alone at the bed and breakfast. His family and the guests had all left for the Independence Day Fair which left him to finally investigate. For the past couple of days (since the grand opening) Ford had been overprotective of the duffel bag he had brought home. Stan pretended not to care but there was something telling him that there was more to Ford forgetting about the grand opening. His twin had been doing something during that time but he had no clue what it was. Then last night Stan noticed that the bag was suddenly empty. It was folded back up on the shelf in their shared closet and Stan wanted to know what had been in it.

His wristwatch told him that it was eight o’clock. He had time. They would be busy setting up his mom’s tarot card reading booth for at least another hour. If he showed up after that, everyone would just assume he was avoiding having to help… which was definitely a bonus.

First, he opened the duffel bag. There was nothing in it besides some dirt. He wasn’t surprised. He crumpled it up and tossed it back into the closet. That meant that he needed to do some more in-depth detective work. He looked over at Ford’s side of the room. It was neater than his own side, but not by much. The desk that they were supposed to share had been completely taken over by Ford’s notes on the weird stuff in town, schematics of inventions, homework left over from the previous school year, and what Stan assumed were love poems to Fiddleford in code.

Stan shuffled through it, trying not to disrupt it enough for Ford to notice. It was hard to tell if there was anything there that would explain what his twin had been doing that day. It was all a jumble of nerd stuff.

He moved on to the desk drawers and found more of the same that had been on the surface of the desk. The drawers appeared to be more of a dumping place for discarded ideas Ford wasn’t quite ready to throw away. Stan didn’t see a problem with being more careless with the contents as Ford probably wouldn’t be able to tell if they were moved.

Stan pulled the drawer out completely and upended it onto the floor. Underneath all of the papers and stray junk, there were Ford’s old journals. The original one from Shermie and Lucy was the most worn. It’s cover was bent and stained, pages were falling out and extra notes had been shoved in. There were two other ones that had fallen out alongside it. Stan picked them up and flipped through them. One was the most recently filled.

Without giving it much thought he flipped to the very last entry, dated only the previous day.

_“I still kick myself for forgetting about Stanley’s grand opening. It was as important to me as it was to him, though, I doubt he would believe me if I told him that. I could tell him why I wasn’t there for him but he would never understand. No one would._

_“Eloo djuhhv zkroh-khduwhgob zlwk pb wkhrulhv derxw wkh zroi. Hlwkhu wkh fuhdwxuh zdv wublqj wr vfduh ph dv vrph irup ri d sudqn ru zdv d jxdugldq zkrvh plvvlrq kdg orqj hasluhg.”_

Stan frowned at the entry. Ford was hiding something from him. His stomach sank as he wracked his brain for any sign of what it could be. Was it bad? Was Ford in trouble? _It could be something good, like he won a trip for us to go to Hawaii or something… Yeah cause that makes no fucking sense._

“Stan? Stan!”

He slammed the journal shut and scrambled to throw everything back in the drawer. He got it back into the desk, just as the bedroom door open. Shermie poked his head in and raised an eyebrow at Stan attempting to look casual while kneeling on the floor by the desk.

“Hey, Stan, Ma wanted me to come get you and tell you, and I quote, ‘Stop trying to get out of helping, you lazy-ass knucklehead’. Her words not mine,” Shermie said as he pushed the door further open. Then once he stood in front of Stan he cleared his throat. “By the way, what on earth are you doing?”

Stan quickly got to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. “I was… uh… looking for my… shoe.”

“You’re wearing your shoes, Stanley.”

“So I am. Thanks, Sherm! I can always count on you and your eagle eyes!” Stan patted him on the shoulder before slipping by him and out of the room. “We should go!”

“You’re welcome?”

 

* * *

 

Ford wiped sweat from his forehead as he used a small mallet to hammer a stake into the ground. They were almost done setting up the tent for his mom’s booth. It was still morning and the sun was already beating down on everyone setting up booths and gathering early for the Independence Day Fair.

He wasn’t surprised that Stanley was nowhere in sight. His twin did his best to avoid things he found “not fun”. Stan had managed to oversleep, though Ford was sure that he was just pretending, then took forever to get ready, until they relented to Stan suggesting they go ahead without him. Of course it was just a ploy for Stan to be able to show up once the difficult part was done and he could just enjoy the fun. Ford wanted to be pissed off but with how he had missed the grand opening of Stan’s museum, he knew he wouldn’t be able to say anything without it being brought up.

Ford stood and stepped back from the tent. The hard part was done. Now they only needed to set up the inside. A little hand patted the side of his leg and he looked down to see Nicole gripping her ever-present stuffed llama in one arm while using her free hand to get his attention.

“Uncle Sixer!” she said patting the side of his thigh urgently. “Uncle Sixer! Uncle Sixer!”

“Yes, dear,” he replied, attempting to hold onto the last bit of patience he retained. “What is it?”

“I want it!” She pointed and he had to turn to see that she was pointing at a snow cone stand that was already doing business. The line wasn’t too long at the moment but it was quickly growing as those who finished setting up their booths were searching for some reprieve from the unforgiving heat.

“Let’s go ask your mother,” he said as scooped up his niece into his arms.

Ford made his way over to where Lucy and Caryn were sorting through a box of décor.

“I know that I packed that table cloth,” Caryn insisted as she pulled out a crystal ball and handed it to her daughter-in-law. “What kind of psychic would I be if I forgot something like that?”

Lucy smiled and shook her head. “Well let me know if you need me to go get it from the shop.”

“You won’t need to ‘cause I know it’s here.”

“Lucy,” Ford cut in. “Nicole wants a snow cone. Would you mind if I took her to get one?”

Nicole reached out to pat her mom’s shoulder. “Mama, please!” She pushed her bottom lip out in the most pitiful look she could make.

“I think that sounds like a great idea,” Lucy said. She pressed a kiss to Nicole’s cheek and grabbed her purse to fish out a couple of dollars. “Here, get yourself one and one for me too. Caryn, do you want a snow cone?”

“No, its just ice and syrup,” Caryn said as she continued to rummage through the box. “Why pay money for that?”

“Just three snow cones then, Ford,” Lucy said with a sigh as she turned back to him. “Your mother is just a ray of sunshine, isn’t she?”

Ford laughed and adjusted his hold on Nicole so that he could take the offered cash. “Thanks, Lucy.”

Caryn straightened and placed her hands on her hips. “I heard that.”

Ford walked away to join the line at the snow cone booth and avoid the passive aggressive exchange that was sure to follow Lucy’s comment. They were seventh in line and people were quickly queuing behind him as he listened to Nicole babble about Scooby-Doo.

“And I wanna doggy like Scooby,” she explained.

Ford frowned. “Well, a Great Dane may not be the best breed for our family. We don’t really have the room and even if we kept it outside there’s the possibility such a large dog could intimidate guests.”

“No, Uncle Sixer! I wanna talking dog!”

Ford cleared his throat as he thought about the talking wolf at the cave and the warnings she had given. He had spoken to Bill about it and his muse had brushed aside his concerns. Not in a bad way! Not at all. Bill had been reassuring and had ruffled his hair while giving the same excuses that Ford had thought of why the wolf couldn’t be trusted.

_“She was probably just messing with your head, braniac! Lots of things around that town like to have fun with the locals, usually at their expense. I would know.” Bill scratched at the brim of his top hat thoughtfully. “Or she’s a guardian whose mission was never updated. Sometimes those spirits get left behind long after their expiration date. I wouldn’t give it too much more thought.”_

Then Bill had redirected the conversation to the artifacts Ford had found. He didn’t mind the shift but he still had this inkling that there was something more going on with that wolf. But, his muse had not steered him wrong yet.

“Can I?”

“What?”

Nicole had pulled his attention back from pondering the wolf encounter. She frowned up at him and put a hand on the side of his face as if to physically hold his attention. “Can I have a talking doggy?”

“Oh,” he cleared his throat and shook his head. “No. I mean, there’s no such thing as a talking dog in real life. Scooby-doo is pretend.”

“But I want one,” she insisted. It wasn’t exactly a tantrum but Nicole experiencing some disconnect in not understanding how something she wanted could be unobtainable.

Ford sighed and just gave her time to process. He glanced back at his mom and Lucy, expecting them to be still in the midst of their argument about the table cloth, but instead saw that Shermie had returned with Stan. He’d expected some sort of shift in how he and Stan interacted after he had missed the grand opening, but if the only day or so since then were any indicator, everything was the same as ever.

After getting the snow cones, he let Nicole walk beside him back over to his mom’s tent. He handed Lucy hers and greeted his brothers.

“Look who decided to show up,” he said with a smirk.

Stan shrugged and gave a nervous laugh. “You know how it is, the life of an entrepreneur is always busy.”

“I found the table cloth!” Caryn suddenly announced as she waved it in Lucy’s face. “Who’s forgetful now!”

“Did we bring the tarot cards?” Shermie asked as he began digging through the boxes.

“Dammit!” Caryn muttered as she took the table cloth inside the tent. Once Caryn was out of sight Lucy let out a hearty laugh.

Shermie shook his head. “Would you guys mind running to Ma’s shop to get the cards?”

Ford glanced toward the other booths. He had promised Fiddleford that he would help setting up his family’s booth. It would be his first time meeting the McGucket’s and he wanted to make a good first impression. “I can’t-” he began when Stan cut him off.

“I’ll go! I’m sure Lizzie wouldn’t mind running over there with me.” Before anyone could reply he ran off to where the Corduroys had only just arrived across the street.

“Uncle Stan ran fast,” Nicole commented before making a zooming sound with her mouth.

Ford brushed off Stan’s suspicious eagerness to get away from them and assumed he probably just wanted some alone time with Lizzie. “Well, I have to go meet Fiddleford,” he told his family. They said a quick goodbye and told him to have fun.

 

* * *

 

“So why did you just basically kidnap me from my family?” Lizzie asked as they headed over to Caryn’s shop.

Stan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I think Ford’s in trouble.”

She glanced over her shoulder back at the fair. “He looked fine to me.”

“No, I mean, he’s hiding something from me and I think it might be something bad. He doesn’t think I’d understand.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and glared at the sidewalk. He was beginning to think that his mom could be wrong about them needing to be independent. If that meant that he and Ford would be hiding things from each other and taking on the world alone, then he didn’t like it one bit.

“And how do you know that?”

“What?”

Lizzie took his hand and squeezed it. When he looked up at her she replied. “How do you know that he’s hiding something and that he doesn’t think you’ll understand?”

“Oh, I read his journal.”

She gave a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, is that all?” she said wryly, then she turned serious. “You invaded your brother’s privacy, Stanley. Whatever that secret is, it’s none of your business. And, honestly, sometimes it’s better to just not get involved.” As she spoke, she released his hand and stopped walking.

Stan only took a couple steps past her before he also stopped and turned back. “Why would you say something like that? Ford is dealing with something all on his own! It’s why he wasn’t at the grand opening. If I have to read all of his journals to find out what the hell is going on, then I will. I just want to help him, Lizzie.” _Am I blowing this out of proportion? Possibly. But if Ford actually is in trouble then he’ll need me on his side. I’m doing this for his own good really._

Lizzie started walking again, but her arms were crossed over her chest and the distance she was keeping between them, told Stan that she was unhappy with him. “Helping someone doesn’t mean snooping through their stuff.”

This wasn’t an argument either of them were going to win and he wanted to move on to her telling him how to actually help his twin. “We’ll agree to disagree. But, Lizzie, babe, what should I do? I don’t know what’s up with him and I can’t get to his current journal. He keeps that thing on him at all times.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “I’m assuming you won’t take my advice to just stay out of it?”

“Not a chance.”

“Then how about you just ask him. Go to him and say,” Here she cleared her throat and attempted an impression of Stan. “‘Sixer, I was a complete asshole and read one of your journals. I know, I know that was awful of me, but there was something in there that made me worry about you. What was it you were doing during the grand opening?’” She dropped the voice and shrugged. “He probably won’t actually tell you but it’s all I got, babe.”

Stan pulled a face. “First off, your impression of me was insulting. Never do that again. Secondly, I can’t do that cause of what you just said, he’d never tell me.” He rubbed the back of his neck in thought. At this point they had arrived in front of his mom’s shop. He let out a groan of frustration. The conversation was going nowhere and he was sweating buckets. “I’ll have to figure this out later. It’s too hot to be worrying about anything right now.”

 

* * *

 

Ford adjusted the collar of his shirt and hoped that he wasn’t sweating enough to be noticeable as he approached the McGucket’s booth for the fair. As he got closer, he could see that they were selling jars of jams and preserves. There were also fresh, in season fruits for sale.

Fiddleford was addressing his family, his back toward Ford. They all shared shockingly similar features; the same nose, blond hair, and wiry body type.

“Now, look all o’ y’all, Ford will be here any minute. You understand that there’ll be no embarrassin’ stories ‘bout me, or askin’ invasive questions. I don’t want y’all scaring him off.”

“You already told us this a million times,” the oldest girl said with an impatient sigh. Then she seemed to spot Ford standing awkwardly too close to be an unimportant bystander. She perked up and took a step closer to Fidds. “Why do ya care so much what this boy thinks?”

Ford considered turning around and going back to his family’s own booth, but it seemed that the other McGuckets had already spotted him. The elderly woman sitting behind their table, who was probably Fidds’ grandmother, gave him a leisurely wave. A man, he assumed Fiddleford’s father, gave Ford a tight smile as he continued to apply sunscreen to a toddler-aged boy. The other three girls, middle school and elementary school age, giggled as they looked from Ford to Fiddleford as if it was their favorite entertainment.

“Because, he’s important to me, is why!” Fidds sounded a bit frustrated and panicked. He turned to a woman, who Ford assumed was their mother. “Momma, please tell Annie not to scare him off.”

Their mother cleared her throat and took Fiddleford’s shoulder. “Is that yer beau?” she asked turning him to face Ford.

“Ford!” Fiddleford yelped. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

Ford wasn’t sure what to say. Fidds was clearly embarrassed by the conversation he had witnessed and the rest of his family were looking on amused. It’d probably be best to pretend as if he hadn’t actually overheard anything. “Sorry, it took me so long to get over here. Stan was trying to get out of helping and I had to pick up the slack.”

“Oh, Stan! He’s the one I talked ta on the phone, right?” Annie cut in. “Fiddleford said he’s yer brother.”

Ford was a bit startled by the comments about Stan. He didn’t even know that Stan had been calling them. “Right. He’s my twin actually.”

“Twins!” Annie squealed. “Fidds didn’t tell me that!”

“Annalise.” their mother said throwing a stern look her way.

Annie sighed and stepped back, pouting.

Fiddleford’s face was bright red at this point. He was looking around wildly as if searching for an escape. Ford could see this being the moment where he lost Fiddleford if he went to hide out of embarrassment for the duration of the fair. Ford desperately didn’t want for that to happen.

He grabbed Fiddleford’s hand. “Introduce me to your family?” he suggested.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Fidds cleared his throat and turned to the rest of his family. First he gestured to his mother. “This is my mom, Helen McGucket.”

She smiled at Ford and said. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Stanford.” He noticed her start to move to shake his hand. He immediately released his grip on Fiddleford’s hand and quickly clasped his hands behind his back. She frowned in subtle confusion but though better of the gesture. It was an awkward dance of social niceties but it remained unnoticeable, he hoped.

 “My grandmother, Rachel McGucket,” Fidds continued.

The elderly woman behind the table waved again. “Good ta meetcha, young man. Make sure yer treatin’ my grandson well.”

Ford cleared his throat as he felt himself flush. It was his turn to be embarrassed, it seemed. He looked to his boyfriend and saw that Fidds was clearly at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing several times, like a fish.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ford replied simply.

She nodded, seemingly content with the response.

 “My dad, Sean McGucket.”

Sean, finished with applying the sunscreen, scooped up the toddler in one arm and approached Ford. He didn’t seem to get the hint that Ford was averse to handshakes and held out his free hand to the teen. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Stanford. Don’t worry, it was all good things.”

Ford stared at the offered hand for a moment. There was no way around this. If he didn’t shake hands, he’d appear rude, but if he did… they’d know that he wasn’t normal. He swallowed hard and grasped the older man’s hand in a firm shake. “And Fidds has told me much about all of you.”

There was no pause to glance at his hand in confusion so he assumed that his six fingers had gone unnoticed for the moment… thankfully.

Fiddleford then turned to his siblings and frowned when his eyes landed on Annie. “My sisters, Annalise, Josephine, Cordelia, and Marigold. Then there’s my little brother, Tulley.”

Annalise was a teen, close in age to Fiddleford. Her blond hair was in a single braid and she had a bright smile on her face. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet and stuck her tongue out at Fidds when she thought her parents weren’t looking.

 Josephine was about middle school age. She hid behind her older sister, peeking out at Ford, curiously. A bow hairclip was placed in her chin length hair and she wore a light green sundress. Ford smiled at her and she ducked behind Annie again.

 Cordelia looked like she was elementary school aged. The lenses of her glasses were so big they appeared to take up half of her face. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she looked bored as she let out an impatient sigh. Ford wondered if she was always so disinterested in the world around her or if she just disliked the fair in particular.

 Marigold was probably only a year or two younger than Cordelia. The first thing Ford noticed about her was that her clothes were all mismatched. A blue t-shirt stained with paint, and a skirt that was covered in lace, paired with a jean vest and mismatched socks with dress shoes. The look was completed with a pirate hat perched on top of her blond curls.

Then Tulley was still in his father’s arms more focused on trying to wiggle out of his grasp than on the introductions.

Even already knowing how many siblings Fidds had, Ford was still overwhelmed. He imagined what holidays would look like in the future, then immediately blushed at the fact that he was imagining himself as being a part of their family. Yes, he wanted to be with Fiddleford for, well, forever, but he felt presumptuous even thinking that that would be his future. It was a nice thought though.

Fiddleford cleared his throat and grabbed Ford’s hand. “Now that we have introductions outta the way, we’ll just be goin’ then,” he said stiffly.

Ford allowed himself to be led away, unwilling to make this even more uncomfortable for Fidds by protesting. He heard a chorus of “see ya later”, “have fun”, and “nice meetin’ ya” behind him as they made their get away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you guys don't have to go through the work of deciphering Ford's encoded part of his journal entry, this is what he wrote: “Bill agrees whole-heartedly with my theories about the wolf. Either the creature was trying to scare me as some form of a prank or was a guardian whose mission had long expired.”


End file.
